Say Yes to Your Master 2
by JacAvoy85
Summary: Erik bought Charles as a sex slave, and then set him free. Will he return? This follows Say Yes to You Master. Charles/Erik AU Angst/Rape Fantasy/Slight Violence/Abuse


*Note: So, I was so back and forth if I should write a second part or not. One moment I was all: "I'm totally going to do it!" to "I think I'll just leave it as is." And so on and so on. (Some of the comments I got put me through a real rollercoaster of emotions) But, in the end (and after taking a long break while writing a comedy/crack/Erik and Charles have a lot of sex in the woods story) I've decided to go ahead with it!

I can't promise this won't be a PWP, but I will TRY to write more of a plot this one. I will try to delve a little more into Charles' background and write more about his struggles, but again: I am a porn writer—not so much a serious story with a plot, but I will try.

So, without further ado, *snaps out of comedy/crack mode* I give you: Say Yes to Your Master, Part Two.

Chapter One.

"Hello Kurt," came a smooth and low voice.

The man turned around—true fear in his eyes. "Ch..Charles. Why are you here?" He asked in a shaky voice.

Charles snaked into the room easily, never taking his eyes off the prize. "I already think you know why I'm here—I was rather hoping you'd be wondering _how_."

Kurt's eyes followed him cautiously. "You're here to kill me," he said plainly.

A sick smirk appeared over Charles' face. "I am."

"Listen Charles," Kurt said, desperation in his voice, "What your mother and I did was for your own protection—they were going to kill you-"

"What you did was for _your own_ selfish reasons!" Charles snapped, "Don't act like you did me any favors—sending me into slavery was to pay off your debut! Don't think I don't know that!"

"No Charles," the older man said. He shook his head. "They were going to come after you—we owed so much…" he looked around nervously, "it…it was the only way…they we're out for blood, and killing us wouldn't have got them their money—they needed to keep us alive."

Charles studied the pathetic man, still keeping his distance, which wasn't that hard to do in a room that size. "Tell me Kurt," he said dryly, "is that what you tell yourself—to sleep better at night—or because you truly believe it?" He looked at the giant bookcase he stood near, "Or is that what you told my mother?" He returned his gaze to the man across from him. "How _is_ my mother by the way? She more upset with the fact that you sold her only son into slavery, or that you somehow managed to blow her entire fortune in just three years time?" Charles looked over to the side. "You know what—don't answer that—I don't think I'll like the answer." He already knew.

Watching as Charles paced the room slowly, Kurt backed himself up against his large oak desk. "Now Charles, trust me when I say this, your mother cared very much for you-"

"_Bullshit_," Charles bit out ferociously. He stopped pacing and turned to his pathetic excuse of a stepfather. "I know she didn't—I've always known." His eyes hardened. "I don't blame her though—I guess I was just a fuck-up after all, wasn't I?" Another sick smirk spread over his face. "How disappointing I must have been to not join you two in your drug escapades. And it must have been every fourteen year olds dream to be a drug mule for their fucked up parents—what was I thinking to say no to that?" Sarcasm dripped heavily from his voice.

"Charles," Kurt's own voice was shaky, "that was a long time ago, I don't think that-"

"You know what," Charles cut off, "you're right—I don't care about that anymore." He cocked his head to the side, "But please—please ask me. Ask me how I got here—I'm more interested in talking about that." He smiled eerily.

Sensing his right hand trembling, Kurt quickly put it behind his back. He will not show his fear.

Even though it was pouring out of his cold and hollow eyes.

"H-how?" He asked timidly.

The young man smiled again, and this time it seemed genuine. "Now that's a very interesting story," he put his hands behind his back and started to pace again, "You see, I had a plan all along—everyone thought I was some dumb fucking kid who didn't know what he was doing—didn't know how to behave," he stopped pacing and looked up, "but I knew what I was doing." He smirked. "I played the fool, the dumb irrational kid, the unobedient slave. I went through Master after Master, until I found the right one—the one who didn't keep me locked away in a cage all day—one who I could eventually get to earn my trust," he looked out the window, "…one who could love me," he added almost so gently that his stepfather didn't hear.

Kurt watched his stepson with intent, eyes following his every move.

"But you see," Charles continued on, "I didn't try to escape—even after he gave me freedom to wander around as I pleased—go where I wanted to in the house, unbound. Hell; he even let me go into town sometimes." He laughed, and it was blood chilling, "What a fucking moron he was." He looked back at Kurt. "But I didn't run. And do you want to know why?"

Kurt blinked wordlessly, waiting for Charles to go on.

"Because I knew if I ran, I'd be found. I heard what happens to runaway slaves—that is not a fait I would ever wish for," he raised his eyebrows. "So I wanted, patently mind you," he went back to walking steadily around the large study, "until one day, he set me free," he said with a magical essence behind it. He looked at Kurt. "So here I am. A free man, to do as I please. No worries of being caught and returned into slavery…or worse." Charles took in a sharp breath. "I am a free citizen and I have the paperwork to prove it." He smiled again and Kurt felt a chill run up his spine.

It was nothing like what he was going to feel in a minute.

"Killing me will not bring you peace Charles," the older man said, voice steely and cold.

Charles cocked his head to the side with a knowing look.

"Yes it will."

In less than three seconds Charles was across the room and plugging his hidden knife into Kurt's chest.

"And you're only the beginning," he said smoothly as he slid the knife out and let his stepfathers limp body drop to the floor with a solid thud.

XXX

A coffee cup lay shattered on the ground by the window where Erik was just standing, hot coffee pooling on the laminate floor.

Five years, it took five years for him to return.

And Erik never stopped hoping once.

He met Charles in the driveway, wrapping his arms around the smaller man before bringing him into a forceful yet passionate and kiss, and it was wonderful and shameless and everything Erik could ever want it to be after five goddamn years of waiting and Charles was kissing him back too.

"You came back," Erik breathed out after he broke away. He look helplessly into the other man's eyes.

"Yes," Charles said steadily, eyes locked onto his former Master's.

Running his hands down Charles' arms, Erik brought him closer. "I never stopped. I never stopped hoping you would return—you would come back to me," he said brokenly. "I never stopped loving you Charles." How could he? He didn't even think he knew how to stop.

Erik waited—hoped.

Charles said nothing.

He didn't blame him though—he wouldn't either.

"Did you do it?" Erik questioned, searching Charles' eyes for answers. "Did you kill them all?" He had to know—he had to make sure that this was real and that Charles wasn't just stopping by on his way to somewhere else. It would kill Erik.

A nod and Charles said: "Yes…" he cocked his head, "Well…not all," he smiled but it was sick and calculating and sent shivers down Erik's spine. He pulled away from the younger man, as if burned.

No—this wasn't happening.

His heart dropped.

"You mean to kill me."

It wasn't a question.

Charles looked at Erik for a moment—a moment that felt like an eternity.

"No," he said, eyes softening, "I would never kill the man who set me free." He nearly muttered the last part.

Erik's shoulders relaxed. Not that he hadn't been half expecting Charles to kill him—the boy (boy? Jesus, he must be at least 27 by now) did say he was going to do away with _all_ his owners. He was just relieved to not have to die from the hands of the man he loved.

But he would—he would die for Charles if that's what Charles wanted. If that's what would make Charles happy.

"Do you want to come in? Are you here to stay? Do you need more money?" Erik asked as he placed both arms on Charles' biceps.

Charles smiled up at him and Erik still couldn't shake that smile. It was different, cold, distant—not the smile of the man he once knew.

It was the smile of a broken man. Of someone who hated himself.

"Charles," he whispered, "What happened to you?" He searched the brunet's face.

His eyes broke first, and then his voice. "I'm a murderer," he choked out and Erik brought him close and stroked his hair as Charles breathed heavily against Erik's chest while he clutched onto the taller man for dear life—like Erik was his life preserver.

But Charles wasn't crying—Charles wouldn't cry—he wouldn't cry over what he'd done, for he did not regret it. Never would he regret it.

He would however, cry over what they had made him into.

…

Erik laid Charles down onto the bed carefully, taking care to cradle his head before he removed the hand from under the smaller man's legs. Charles stared up at him, searing blue eyes burning deeply into his soul.

And then Erik kissed him fiercely, and he kissed Erik back and then before he knew it Erik was breaking away, looking ashamed and afraid and he didn't even fully know why.

"I haven't…since you…" he looked away, embarrassment coming into play now.

But Charles smiled kindly and sat up, brining Erik's face back to his with the touch of a hand. "It's okay," he said softly. "But you didn't have to," he cocked his head, "I'm afraid I wasn't as faithful as you though," he murmured.

Erik looked down. He'd be lying if he said it didn't hurt—that he didn't feel his heart shatter at just the thought. "It's okay," he forced out softly, "I wasn't expecting you to…I just," he looked back up into pools of blue, "_I_ just did because I love you—I only ever wanted you," he let out an unstable breath.

Another soft smile played over Charles' face. He said: "I know Erik," before recapturing the older man's lips.

Erik kissing Charles was amazing, but Charles kissing Erik was magic—it sent electricity surging through the taller man's body, making him go impossibly lightheaded and weak. He pulled away with a gasp, pressing his forehead to the younger man's. "Charles," he said lowly, a deep rumbling in his chest, "Charles I've missed you so much," he whispered against the smaller man's lips. Charles parted his mouth slightly before taking Erik's bottom lip into his mouth and sucking on it.

Erik kept his eyes open and watched as Charles made his lip feel like it was the most important piece of human anatomy in the whole world. Charles was blurry and it made his eyes hurt and strain but he didn't care because if it meant looking away he thought he might lose Charles forever and he'd rather die than let that happen again.

He will never lose Charles again.

Once Charles pulled away, he looked thoroughly into the other man's silverish eyes. "I've missed you a great deal too my friend," he said gently, running a hand down Erik's face.

Sealing their lips back together powerfully, Erik pressed Charles back down onto the oversized bed.

Never had one bed ever felt so empty until the day that Charles was no longer in it.

Immediately, like a trained fucking dog, Charles' hands rose up, crossed at the wrists, and settled above his head. Erik pulled away. "What…what are you doing?" He asked, looking down at the younger man in question. "You don't have to do that anymore. You're not…" he couldn't even say the words that haunted him, "It's not like that anymore Charles," he said quietly but with horror.

"I know," Charles replied easily, "but I want to—I want you to bind me up…please," he asked with slight begging in his tone, and it broke Erik, it angered him, it made him ashamed and hateful towards himself.

"No Charles," he said harshly, "It's not like that anymore. You cannot ask me to do that again." He sat up and turned away from the man beneath him. Charles quickly followed, pressing himself to Erik's back firmly. He rested his cheek against it and breathed. "I know it's not like that anymore Erik—and I'm not asking for that." He placed a kiss to Erik's shoulderblade. "But I want you to tie me up—freely. I'm asking for it this time," he placed his cheek against Erik's back again and closed his eyes, "I want this," he said on a breath.

Erik let out a low sigh, eyes closing. The feel of Charles pressed up against his back like that made his hands tremble. How could one man wreck him so much?

And a man that _he_ use to be in control of at that.

He turned his head to look back at Charles. "You're asking me to be the man that I never want to be again—please don't make me do that."

Charles shook his head gently, "No Erik," he said as he looked at the man, "I'm not asking you to be my Master again—just to restrain me." He traced a finger down Erik's upper arm slowly.

"But it would make me feel like that," Erik retorted quickly. He turned back away from the smaller man. How can Charles ask this of him?

It was Charles that sighed softly this time. He placed his face back to Erik's back and rubbed a hand soothingly against Erik's shoulderblade. "I tried you know. I tried having others do it—tie me up and fuck me like you did." Erik shrugged Charles off his back, angry now. "But it wasn't the same," he pressed himself back to Erik, who let out a huff. "No one could fuck me like you did—no one was as good," he placed another kiss to Erik's back, "No one even came close," a kiss to Erik's neck, "only you," he whispered as a kiss landed right under Erik's ear.

Erik closed his eyes and tipped his head to the right as Charles placed another kiss to his neck, sending tingles through his body quickly.

"Please," Charles whispered again as his hand worked its way around to Erik's chest and slid down his tie, "don't make me beg."

A sharp breath left Erik and his eyes flew open. He looked down at the hand that was wrapping around the tie he was wearing.

Fuck the meeting he was supposed to go to—fuck em' all—fuck everyone there. He was the goddamn CEO, if he didn't want to go into work, he didn't have to.

He helped Charles loosen the tie around his neck and slid it off. Charles lay back down and watched Erik, his breathing already picking up.

"Hands above your head," Erik said firmly. Charles complied.

Erik straddled Charles and slipped the silk tie under his wrists, tying and quick but loose knot.

"Tighter," Charles said breathlessly, blue eyes staring up at Erik in want.

Shutting his eyes as his head dropped, Erik muttered: "Damn it Charles," before giving a harsh tug on the ends and tightening the hold around Charles' wrists. When he opened his eyes he was met with a look that he wanted to call love but he was sure it was more likely just wanton. Erik swallowed.

"Is that tight enough?"

Charles nodded wordlessly so Erik leaned over and placed a single kiss to Charles' bound wrists before trailing kisses down his arm, to his shoulder, to his chest, and then his stomach. "Too much clothes," he muttered before reaching out to unbutton Charles' shirt—and he noticed—he noticed Charles still wore button-ups. He knew it wasn't a coincident.

He slid his hands up Charles' bare chest, pushing the split shirt out of the way. Charles' skin broke out in goosebumps at Erik's touch, causing him to moan softly.

"I've missed those noises," Erik said quietly before leaning down and pressing his lips against Charles'. They kissed for a brief few moments, no tongue, not teeth, just the soft press of lips against lips—it was surreal.

"Erik," Charles rasped out gently once he broke away. He looked deeply at the other man. "I'm ready."

Running a hand down Charles' chest to his stomach, Erik let his hand rest just above the younger man's pants. Charles let out a low whimper and Erik worked on unbuttoning and unzipping his pants. He slowly slid the article of clothing down his legs, freeing Charles of his confinement. He removed Charles' shoes and socks before he worked off his pants the rest of the way, letting all his clothes pile onto the floor by the bed.

Charles was already hard, his erection trapped underneath his boxers. Until Erik too freed that. He slowly rolled his boxers down, slipping them off his legs with one final tug.

His own breathing gone shallow, Erik reached down and starting removing his own clothes.

"Leave your shirt on," Charles whispered, "just unbutton it, but don't remove it."

Erik's hands froze once they got to the bottom button. He lowered his arms and let his shirt hang open, exposing his chest. Next were his pants—belt, then top button, then zipper, then underwear—until they too were gone and joining the pile of Charles' forgotten clothes on the floor.

Kneeling over Charles, Erik ran his hand over his cock, looking down at Charles wantonly. "It's _been_…I may not last long," he said faintly.

A small smile appeared over Charles' face. "It's okay," he said kindly, "we have all the time in the world now for that."

Erik's heart nearly froze in his chest. He looked down at the man below him affectionately before leaning down and slamming their lips together in a fierce and wild kiss. Charles tipped his head back as Erik attacked his mouth, the taller man's hand cupping under his jaw and pulling Charles closer.

Once Erik broke away to catch his breath, he pressed his forehead against Charles', shallow breath rasping out of his mouth. "You mean to stay?" he asked, looking down at the man below him.

A quick kiss was placed to Erik's lips before Charles pulled back, looking the man rightfully in the eyes now. "I can't promise forever—but we'll see what happens."

It was good enough for Erik—although he had no intentions of ever letting Charles go again—even if that meant tying him up to his…

_No_.

Not that. He would not do that again—_ever_.

He shook the thought from his head before pushing himself back up. He pushed Charles' knees up and spread his legs, placing a single kiss to the top of each kneecap before leaning over to his nightstand. He pulled out an abandon bottle of lubricant and brought it back to the bed.

"Is that the same...?" Charles asked, eyes flashing from the bottle to Erik.

A head nod and then Erik said: "I told you I hadn't been with anyone else."

"Not even yourself?" Charles questioned.

"Rarely," Erik replied lowly, "and even then, only in the shower—the bed reminded me too much of you."

Charles studied him. "I see," he said gently. He had no idea what an impact he'd left on this man's life after he left.

Erik wrapped both of his hands around either of Charles' thighs, lifting him up slightly and repositioning him on the bed. Charles looked up at the ceiling and swallowed. Working a small amount of lubricant onto his fingers, Erik pressed into Charles gently at first, earning a small gasp from the man below him.

"Faster Erik," he rasped out, tilting his head to meet eyes. Erik locked onto his hold and sped his hand movements up, twisting in and out of the smaller man's body. He added another finger and Charles keened, forcing Erik to speed up even more.

"Another," Charles ground out, tossing his head to the side as his eyes slid shut and his mouth split.

Once Erik got three fingers in, he was breathing heavily from anticipation, fucking Charles with his fingers while his other hand, unbeknown to him, was gripping tightly onto Charles' thigh. He was not only turning his knuckles white, but bruising Charles' skin in the process.

"Erik, stop," Charles breathed out as his eyes flew open. He looked wrecked. "You have to stop or I'm going to come," he warned.

Removing his fingers, Erik never took his gaze off the man below him. He added more lube to his hand before smearing it onto his cock, giving it a couple of hand pumps. Grabbing back onto Charles' thighs, he hoisted the man up again before guiding his cock to press against Charles' entrance. Charles moaned longly, and then swallowed before biting his lip. Erik took in a deep breath before pushing in a couple inches, instant warmth and tightness surging up his cock. He pushed in more, causing Charles to tip his head back, exposing his neck as he moaned loudly. Charles' eyes fluttered shut and Erik thrust his hips again and was fully in Charles. He held still and Charles opened his eyes to look at the man above him.

"Fuck me Erik, please."

Erik's hand shot out and grabbed a hold of Charles' bound wrists, slamming them back up from where they were before they slipped down closer to his head. Charles gasped out a sharp breath and Erik slowly as fuck started thrusting his hips, sliding in and out of Charles' body gradually, inch by antagonizing inch until Charles wasn't sure if he could take it anymore.

"Faster, Erik," he pleaded as his head thrashed to the other side, "please."

Leaning over Charles, Erik thrust in slowly still. "No," he said softly before capturing Charles' lips. He fucked Charles with purpose, tenderly and gently, rocking his hips with light movement.

Fucking Charles was amazing, familiar, breathtaking—_unbelievably madding_. It was everything he'd been waiting for since five years ago when Charles walked away and out of Erik's life.

Keeping one hand wrapped around Charles' wrists and the other on the bed, Erik fucked into him carefully, drawling his hips back only just enough to dive back into him without too much speed. Their lips were centimeters apart, breaths and moans matching. When Erik moaned, Charles moaned. When Charles' breath hitched, so did Erik's—and that's how they fucked, slowly and tenderly and in complete sync with each other's bodies.

Erik drove his cock into Charles a couple more times before he found himself coming, he gasped into Charles' mouth, his whole body shaking. He loosened his hold on Charles' wrists, so Charles threw his bound hands around Erik's neck and pulled him into a kiss, crashing their lips together as he too came, his seed spilling out of him hotly in messy bursts.

Erik took in a deep shuddering breath; leaning back to meet Charles' eyes, the younger man's tied hands still securely around his neck.

"Never leave again Charles."

…

The next, Charles left.

Erik awoke to an empty bed, no note, no sign of Charles and one of his Bentley's gone.

By 7pm Erik had put two holes in his hallway and destroyed one of his living rooms before locking himself in his study with a bottle of scotch.

He did not dare go into the bedroom—that was him and Charles' place.

By 9pm the bottle was more than half empty and Erik had found Charles' old collar and was gripping it tightly in his hand, head lowered and eyes closed as he sat on his couch.

Erik Lehnsherr did not cry, but he did mope.

Sadness and anger swept over him as he squeezed his eyes shut even tighter. How dare Charles—how dare he? How dare he come back into Erik's life only to shatter it again? Erik had been through so much over the last five years—wondering if Charles were to ever return or not. Wondering if and when he'd ever finish killing all the ones who had ever hurt him. Wondering if he'd moved on.

Wondering if he died.

Why? Why would he do this to Erik? Why would he come back only to spend one bliss filled evening with him and then leave? It wasn't fair. Erik waited _so_ long. He waited so long for Charles to come back to him. And now he's gone again—gone like he was never there to begin with. It filled Erik with more rage than he thought his body could handle.

Had Charles only came back to just let Erik know he were okay? That he indeed didn't die and was very well alright and still alive?

Did he just come back to steal Erik's car? Perhaps to get more money? He'd hadn't even bothered to check and see if any of his credit cards were missing and, truth be told, he didn't even care at the moment.

He was about to throw the collar into the fireplace when he heard the sound of tires on gravel. He jumped up and looked out the window, waiting for his heart to either speed up, or drop.

…

"Where the _hell_ have you been?" His voice came out a bit harsher than he'd meant. He could tell this by the flinched expression on Charles' face. "You're gone all day— and you don't even bother to leave a note? I've been sitting around here all day worrying about you!" He slurred the last part slightly, the alcohol hitting him even harder now that he was standing up.

Charles blinked at the taller man. He hadn't even made it all the way into the living room yet and Erik was in his face. "Erik I'm sorry if I upset you—it was not my means to," he said gently as he ran a hand down Erik's arm. Erik wanted to shrug it away, wanted to be mad at him, tell him not to touch him. But the instant Charles' body came in contact with his, his whole world stopped—relief was flowing though his veins from the fact that Charles had come back. "I am sorry Erik, I just realized last night that I spent so much time tracking down and killing everyone that had harmed me, I nearly forgot about another very important player to the game."

Taking in a deep breath through his nose, Erik focused his anger elsewhere and looked at Charles. "Who?"

"Janos Quested—he was Azazel's associate." He removed his hand from Erik's arm. "He was actually the one who came and got me when my parents sold me into slavery. He was, you could say," Charles cocked his head, "Azazel's right hand man."

"And you killed him?"

Charles shook his head, "No. I didn't." He looked truthfully into Erik's eyes. "Although it's not to say that he didn't deserve to die—but I have seen enough bloodshed by these hands for one lifetime."

Something about that statement sent chills through Erik's body. He took a step back. "What did you do then?"

A small smile spread over Charles' face. "Let's just say that, I gave him a warning." His voice was as chilling as the smile he gave.

"And you're not afraid that he'll turn you in—that he'll tell the police it was you that killed Azazel?" Erik's head was starting to spin. He wasn't sure if it were from the liquor or the fear that Charles may get caught soon.

He'll cross that bridge when he needs too—he was not going to think about it now. And he was perfectly willing to go down with the bridge if needed be.

"No, I'm not afraid," Charles had said with all the confidence in the world, "He saw what I did to Azazel—he knows not to fuck with me." Another blood curdling smile crossed over the shorter man's face. "Janos Quested cherishes his life more than some of the others did—he even told me so when he thought I was there to kill him."

Erik decided he did not want to know anymore. He didn't want to look at Charles as this coldblooded killer that he knew he was. He was Charles—plain, simple, tea loving, book reading Charles. The same Charles who had the most addictive smile and softest blue eyes you've ever seen. His sweet, innocent, British Charles.

He loved Charles—there for Charles could do no wrong.

"Why didn't you at least tell me then?" Erik asked, anger dissipating from his tone, being replaced with confusion, hurt-_betrayal_. He thought Charles knew he could tell Erik anything-anything at all.

"I did not want to worry you." Charles said simply, like that was the best answer he could give.

Erik scowled. "You could have at least left a note." Something—_anything_, to tell Erik that he'd hadn't just ran away—took off—walked out of Erik's life again, to leave him alone and hollow, feeling all those painful and heart-wrenching feelings he had for the past five Charles-less years.

"If I would have left a note, would you not have tried to come after me?" Charles questioned as he tipped his head to the side again, studying the other man.

Looking off to the other side of the room, Erik huffed out: "Of course I would have tried to come after you Charles—_I love you_." Did the man really think that Erik would just sit there and wait—wait and wonder if Charles was okay? Wonder if he was going to get himself killed? Of course Erik would have come after him—he wouldn't let Charles go out into the world again if Erik knew it might cause him harm. Not this time.

Charles smiled faintly. "_That_ is why. I couldn't let you get in the way—this was my problem to deal with—not yours." And Charles knew Erik would have only tried to stop him, or worse—tried to help. He didn't need Erik to go down with him. It wouldn't be right.

"I already told you before that I would have helped you," he snapped out quietly, head still feeling woozy. He covered his face with his hand and closed his eyes. The room was starting to spin—it was…too much. Too much liquor, too much information to deal with—too much to lose.

"Erik?" Charles questioned as he took a step closer, "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," the older man said, not removing his hand or opening his eyes, "I'm just a little drunk," he said shamefully as he felt Charles' hand back on his arm. It was warm and soft, and caring.

It was almost enough to make Erik forget about the headache that was building.

"Let's get you to bed then," Charles said gently as he took Erik by the hand, "You'll feel better in the morning."

Erik allowed Charles to take him off to bed. "We're not done talking about this," he said as harshly as he could in his condition while they walked down the hallway. They were not done—he was not happy about what had happened and how Charles had just left without telling him.

But Charles said nothing. He just led Erik down the foyer and tried not to notice the two holes in the wall that weren't there before he'd left.

He did notice though—it was hard not to.

…

"I thought you'd left me again Charles," came Erik's muffled voice in the dark. He moved closer to the man in his bed, wrapping an arm around his waist.

"No," Charles replied softly before sealing their lips together.

…

The next day—Erik did not bring up the incident again, or ever.

…

Two Days later.

"Have you thought about what will happen to you if you get caught?" Erik asked while Charles ran his hands down Erik's naked and wet body. The steam was so thick from the shower that Erik almost couldn't see the blues of Charles' eyes.

"Shh," Charles silenced him, placing a finger to the taller man's mouth. "There's no need for that kind of talk right now," He let his other hand trail down until it reached Erik's erection. He wrapped his hand around it and started slowly stroking, "not when I have more important things to tend to."

Erik wanted to protest, wanted to tell him it was important and it wasn't something they could just put off talking about forever—but the way that Charles had sunk down to his knees, and the way that he was looking up and Erik with those soul-stealing eyes-Erik couldn't seem to get his mouth to do anything other than moan out Charles' name.

Charles took Erik's shaft into his mouth after sending a small lick up the underside of the taller man's cock with the tip of his tongue. Erik immediately weaved his hand in Charles' wet and curling hair as he moaned out lowly, watching while the younger man serviced his cock through the steam of their shower.

"Charles," Erik strained out with a heavy voice, "you don't have to do that—I could fuck you if you'd like." He would do anything for Charles—anything at all.

But Charles just shook his head around Erik's cock before pulling briefly away to say: "No, I want to do this—no one's cock ever came quite the same to tasting as good as yours," before he reattached his mouth around Erik, sucking him in slowly and tenderly. And Erik didn't want to think about all the other men's cocks that Charles had had in his mouth after (or before) his. All he wanted to do was look down at the younger man and know how lucky he was to have him again. Charles was his—all his—and he wasn't planning on letting him go again without a fight.

No matter who it was that came to take him away.

Charles rolled his lips over and over again against Erik's cock, sending nothing but toe curling pleasure surging through the older man's body. Charles placed both hands on Erik's hips and encouraged him to fuck into his mouth as he pleased, by rocking Erik's hips forward and backwards for him. Erik got the message loud and clear and started his own rhythm, slowing driving his erection in and out of Charles' mouth steadily.

A flash of blue eyes up at him and it was all Erik could handle. He tried to tighten his hold on Charles' wet hair but found his hand was too shaky, so instead brought both hands down and held onto either side of Charles' face, holding his head still while he fucked into his mouth. Charles let out a moan and reached down to take his own cock in his hand, leaving his other to stay firmly on Erik's hip as he started jerking himself off.

"Charles," Erik rasped out and then came, loading Charles' mouth up with his seed. His thrusts went from smooth and steady to rickety and wobbly as he rounded his completion. He let go of Charles' face and withdrew his cock once he had finished. He looked down at the younger man, locking eyes with him as Charles finished himself off—and it was so fucking hot and beautiful to watch. Charles came on the shower floor, Erik's name a whisper on his lips and before he even had the time to finish his release, Erik was already pulling him up by his upper arm and crashing their lips together in a helpless kiss. Charles was pretty sure he shot some of his ejaculate on Erik's thigh but he couldn't seem to care when Erik was kissing him the way he was—it was raw and full of power and lust.

It was the first time that he had gone breathless against the German's lips.

…

"Who are they?" Erik asked when came out of his room and into the hallway later that week.

Turning around to face Erik, Charles smiled. "They're here to fix the holes in the wall." He replied calmly.

Erik breezed past the working men and gave Charles a glower. "I don't need people to fix my walls," he said under his breath as he looked Charles dead in the eyes, "I could have done it myself."

"But you haven't—and it's been over a week," Charles said with an even tone, unperturbed as he locked eyes with the taller man.

"Fine," Erik muttered. He stepped past Charles. "I'm gonna start some coffee—you want tea?" He asked as he made his way down the hallway, refusing to acknowledge the strangers in his house.

"Please," Charles replied with his proper and prime British accent, "thanks," he added kindly as he watched Erik disappear down the foyer. He turned back to the men at work once Erik was out of sight. "The living rooms next gentlemen," he said with a smile.

Charles never asked, and Erik didn't tell.

They didn't need to.

…

"Thank you dear," Charles said as he took a sip of his tea, looking down at his cup lovingly.

Erik wished he looked at him like that. Ridiculous it was—to be jealous of a teacup. Well, not so much the teacup itself, but what was inside of it. Still...

"Come here," Charles said after he took a drink and set his cup by the sink. Erik rose from his seat and joined Charles by the counters. Wrapping his arms around the taller man's waist, and burying his face into Erik's neck, Charles breathed in his scent. "Mmm, you're a good man Erik," he muttered against his neck.

A shiver ran through Erik's body and he closed his eyes against Charles' head. All this for a cup of tea?

"Charles-"

"Shh," Charles whispered, cutting him off. "Just let me have this," he said softly.

Chapter Two.

"Are you sure?" Erik asked between kisses. He trailed his way up Charles' naked body, stopping at his bare chest.

"Yes," Charles said breathless. He ran a hand down Erik's face as the older man looked up at him.

"But I like when you watch me," he murmured, "it turns me on." He placed a wet kiss to Charles' collarbone.

Running a hand down Erik's shoulder, Charles gave the man a look of fondness. "I like to watch too," he said gently, "but I also like to be blinded at times—it keeps me on my toes—makes me wonder what you'll do next." Erik smirked up at him. "I assure you—you will be anywhere but on your toes." He licked a broad stripe up Charles' neck and reached his hand down to wrap around Charles' thick cock.

A small helpless whimper left Charles' lips and Erik pretended not to hear. He stroked Charles slowly, twisting his hand and applying just enough pressure to drive the younger man mad with arousal.

"Erik," he rasped out, "the blindfold—please."

Grinning with self-satisfaction, Erik leaned over Charles' body and grabbed onto his forgotten necktie that was draped over the edge of the bed. He raised a questioning eyebrow at Charles. "Will this do?"

Glancing at the tie, Charles' eyes turned a darker shade of blue as he nodded his head wordless. Erik crashed their lips together passionately before leaning up more to fasten the necktie around Charles' face.

"Can you see?"

Charles shook his head side to side and Erik traced a finger slowly down his chest and stomach. Charles' mouth opened slightly as a small gasp escaped it.

"What do you want Charles?" Erik asked quietly between kisses placed against the smaller man's chest. He looked up at Charles even though Charles couldn't see him.

"Whatever you want Erik," he murmured, blindly reaching out and weaving his hand in Erik's hair. "Surprise me," he whispered. Erik closed his eyes for a moment—taking in the feel of Charles' hand against his scalp. He let out a shaky breath before opening his eyes once more. He placed another kiss to Charles' chest, his bottom lip sticking slightly to Charles' skin when he went to pull back.

A soft moan came from Charles as Erik trailed his way down lower on the younger man's body. He positioned himself between Charles' legs and licked a stripe up Charles' erection before blowing a stream of cool air against it. Charles shuddered, his head tipping to the side. He reached down again to find Erik's hair.

But Erik moved out of his reach and said: "No Charles," gruffly. "I think I need to restrain your hands as well."

This time it was a low moan from the back of his throat that left Charles as he gave his form of agreement. Erik got up from the bed and returned moments later with two pairs of cuffs. Charles said nothing as Erik handcuffed him to the bed, one hand at each post.

"Are you sure this is what you want?" Erik asked timidly. "I still don't feel right about this."

Smiling in a reassuring way that only Charles Xavier could do, he turned his head towards the sound of Erik's voice. "Yes Erik—this is what I want. I already told you—after I left, I tried— I tried to find someone who could fuck me the same as you—someone who could tie me up as well as you did-"

"Charles," Erik warned, head turning away. He did not want to fucking hear this. He did not want to hear this ever.

"But no one could compare to you," he continued on, unable to see the frustration building in the other man's eyes. "I don't know how many I went through—none as satisfying as you Erik. No one could quite make me feel like you did…do actu-"

"_Enough_," Erik growled out. He turned back to face Charles. "I do not want to hear about all the other men you fucked. Or were _fucked by_." he stood from the bed. "You may think that you are paying me a compliment, but I do not want to hear about all your failed fucks!" He stalked over to the door.

"Erik?" Charles called out confused, still blinded. "I didn't mean to upset-"

"No Charles," Erik snapped out. "Just…I need to not be around you for a minute." He left the bedroom, closing the door behind him.

The back of Charles' head thumped against the headboard.

"Well _fuck_," he breathed out.

…

When Erik returned, what felt like twenty minutes later, he stepped inside his room slowly, looking at Charles who was still bound to his bed and blindfolded. He traced a finger gradually up Charles' leg, starting at his foot and ending at his thigh.

"Erik." Charles acknowledged, taking in a breath.

"Charles," he said gently before sitting down on the bed and placing a kiss to Charles' lips. "No more," he breathed out once he pulled away. "No more talk of the others."

Charles tried to turn his head in the direction that he believed Erik was in. "Okay," he replied evenly.

Erik landed another kiss to the younger man's neck as he reached down and tried to get Charles hard again.

It didn't take long—with the way that Erik was mouthing his neck and stroking his cock—Charles gasped soundlessly as Erik brought him back into full arousal.

Erik slid back down and took Charles into his mouth. He sucked him long and slow, forcing as much of Charles' erection in his mouth he could. He wrapped his hand around the base of Charles' cock as he sucked, angling it perfectly to fit into his mouth.

Moaning out lowly, Charles' head thrashed side to side as his whole body filled with pleasure. Erik's head bobbed a couple more times and Charles came down his throat, filling the other man's mouth with his warmth.

Erik pulled away; breathing ragged, and laid his cheek against Charles' leg. He looked up at the man just with his eyes. "Are you okay Charles?" he murmured.

"Yes," Charles answered simply.

…

"What you did earlier, Erik…that was fucked up." Came Charles' voice in the dark. It was a little after 1am.

Turning to face Charles, Erik furrowed his brows and let his eyes focus on Charles' face. They both stared at each other with their heads on their pillows. "Did what?"

"You left me tied up," Charles said calmly, "like I was your slave again."

Erik's heart sank. It felt like a thousand knifes all plunged into his chest at once. His whole body was tingly. Of course—how could he have been so stupid? Why the fuck had he done that? Charles was not his to leave tied to a bed anymore.

He wasn't even sure if Charles was still his in the first place.

"Charles," he broke out in a half sob, "I'm so sorry," he shook his head. "I didn't…it wasn't like that.."

Charles watched him and said nothing.

"I'm so sorry," Erik whispered. He brought his hand up to cup Charles' face. "I'm so fucking sorry—I just…I just couldn't stand hearing about all the other people you'd been with, all the others who touched you…held you…fucked you," he squeezed his eyes shut and turned on his back. His arm came up to cover his eyes. Just thinking about it now drove him mad with rage. It took everything he had to not throw something across the room. "I just needed to get away for a minute, smoke a cigarette…calm down." He turned his head back to Charles. "It was not supposed to be perceived as a punishment—please believe me Charles—I would never do that."

Charles still said nothing. He just watched Erik in the dark.

A broken sob left Erik. "Please don't leave again Charles," he whispered.

Leaning closer, Charles placed a single kiss to Erik's eye. "Goodnight Erik," he said gently before turning to face away from him.

Erik took in a stuttering breath and stared up at the ceiling.

It was probably 4am before he fell asleep that night.

…

When Erik woke up alone the next morning he was briefly panicked. But the still warm sheets on Charles' side of the bed and what felt like a small amount of wetness tickling gently on Erik's cheek told him Charles was not far. He let out a small breath of relief and rolled onto his back.

He knew that spot of the ceiling all too well.

…

"Good morning Erik," Charles said softly as he watched the older man make his way into the kitchen. He set his teacup down and placed both hands on the table as Erik came up behind him.

"I'm sorry Charles," he murmured into the side of the smaller man's head as he leaned over him, lips close to his ear. Charles' eyes fluttered shut and he took in a deep breath.

"Don't." He spoke with composer. "_Don't_ apologize—it makes you sound as if you did something wrong." His eyes opened. "You said it was a mistake, so let's just leave it at that."

Erik lowered his head to Charles' shoulder.

"Yes Charles."

…

Breathing raggedly, Erik panted against Charles' skin. "I want you to do the same to me," he breathed out before placing another kiss to the smaller man's neck. "I want you to restrain me to the bed," he said as he fucked Charles gently.

Charles leaned his head back a tad and brushed the sweaty hair off Erik's forehead. Erik looked at him. The bed stopped moving and all that could be heard was the sound of mangled breaths.

"What?" Charles finally broke the silence.

Erik took in a couple of quick breaths before he answered, never taking his eyes off blue. "I want you to do that same to me—what I did to you. Tie me up and leave."

Charles blinked.

"It's only fair," Erik said deadly calm. He thrust up once, causing Charles to close his eyes and grunt.

Once his eyes opened again, Charles looked back at him. "And this will make you feel better—make you feel as if we're even?"

"Yes," Erik said with the roll of his hips. Charles moaned again and turned his head to the side, his eyes snapping shut. "Again Erik," he said.

Erik rolled his hips again…and again…and again.

"Yes Erik," Charles moaned out loudly, "fuck me like that," he breathed out.

Erik picked up pace, thrusting into the smaller man below him over and over again.

"Erik," Charles gasped out, his hands digging into the older man's ass, encouraging his faster pace. He helped Erik plunge his cock into him with every squeeze of his hands, forcing Erik to fuck him harder. Erik buried his face in Charles' neck as he panted, breathing gone strained. Charles wrapped his legs around Erik's waist and hoisted his hips up off the bed a bit, allowing Erik to fuck into him deeper at a better angle.

Bringing his face out of the crook of Charles' neck, Erik looked helplessly into the younger man's eyes. He brought his lips down for an open eyed kiss—it was quick and uneven and Erik never wanted to look away from the man underneath him. Charles watched Erik as he placed another sloppy yet quick kiss to his lips before pressing his temple to Charles' cheek. He was still thrusting into Charles harshly, yet his kisses were so tender and soft it made Charles' head spin.

Moving his hands from Erik's ass to his back, Charles cocked his head to the side as he moaned lowly, eyes closing and fingers digging into Erik's back. Erik kissed the side of Charles' neck before resting his forehead against the younger man's shoulder and closing his own eyes. He rocked his hips over and over again, driving his cock faster into Charles.

Erik bit onto Charles' shoulder to stifle his cry as he came, filling Charles with his love and warmth. He released his mouth when he heard Charles' sharp inhale, afraid he had hurt the smaller man.

"Charles?" He asked timidly as he brought his head up, searching the man's face. But Charles just shook his head and breathed out: "Just keep fucking me." Erik thrust his hips again and Charles moaned out, digging his fingers back into Erik's skin as he came between them, coating both their bodies with his stickiness.

Breathing harder than he had in a long while, Erik looked deeply into Charles' eyes and Charles stared back up at him, his own mouth open and panting harshly.

"I love you Charles," Erik said, his breath ghosting over the other mans lip's before he sealed their mouths together, not giving Charles a chance to respond.

Even though he knew, Charles would not have responded anyway.

…

"Does it hurt?" Erik asked quietly from behind Charles. He looked down at the ring of teeth marks on the shorter man's shoulder.

Charles smiled at him through the bathroom mirror. "It stings—yes."

Erik bowed his head down and placed a gently kiss to the spot. Charles hissed slightly.

"I'm sorry," Erik said, his voice low. He looked at Charles through the mirror.

"I know," Charles told him, still smiling. "Just put some Neosporin on it for me please. You broke the skin—I don't want to get an infection."

Erik smirked. "I'm not rabid," he said teasingly.

"Says you," Charles laughed and watched as Erik went to his bathroom closet and dug out the Neosporin.

Positioning himself back behind the shorter man, Erik twisted the cap off and squeezed some of the creamy liquid out onto his finger. "Hold still," he murmured. Charles winced and a small hiss left his lips again—not from the medicine, but from the touch. Charles was pretty sure he'd have that mark there for awhile.

"Done," Erik said kindly next to Charles' head before he placed swift a kiss to the spot just above his teeth marks. "I'll try to be more gentle next time."

Charles smiled at Erik's reflection.

…

"Was your hair always that blond?" Charles asked from across the chessboard. He cocked his head to the side as he looked at Erik.

Erik deadpanned. "You're just now noticing?" He took one of Charles' pawns.

"It was blond before, was it not?" Charles watched as his captured pawn took up residence with his other fallen pieces.

"No." Erik supplied evenly.

Charles frowned. "Surely it was _blondish_—it wasn't _brown_—my hair is brown."

Erik resisted the urge to roll his eyes at Charles' more than obvious statement. He sighed and gave his lover a leveled look. "It was light brown—not blond."

"Hm." Charles said. He studied Erik once more. "I like it blond," he concluded.

"I'm thinking about shaving it off," Erik said with a dismissive hand.

Eye's gone wide, Charles nearly gasped. "You _can't_," he told him, "I like your hair."

Erik smirked. "You should shave yours too."

This time Charles did gasp.

"I would _never_."

Chapter Three.

Erik's face was white as a ghost. He knew this day would come—he'd just hoped it wouldn't. He stood at his front door, eyeing the two detectives. Detective Munoz and Detective _what-the-fuck-ever_, Erik didn't remember—didn't care—all he could focus on was his breathing (which was probably out of control) and trying hard to say calm.

"…was purchased by you Mr. Lehnsherr," one of them was saying. The detective looked back up from his notepad. "Is that correct?"

Erik swallowed. "Yes," he said with an even tone. "But I set him free—over five years ago. I have the paperwork to prove it—you can talk to my lawyer." He tried not to get defensive but he was failing.

"We did talk to your lawyer and we already saw that," Detective Munoz said, eyeing the man suspiciously, "We're not accusing you of anything—we're just asking if you've seen him. You were the last known person he was in contact with."

"_Alive_." Detective Cassidy put in and Erik's blood ran cold. He knew Charles was a killer—he just didn't need to be reminded of it.

Detective Munoz put his hand up. "Listen, all we know is that Kurt Marko, the same man who sold Charles Xavier into slavery, was found dead-"

"Stabbed to dead," Cassidy put in humorlessly.

"-less than five years ago and Charles has vanished. You use to own him and you're telling me you released him from your services around five years ago. And you haven't been in contact with him since?" Munoz eyed Erik. "I'm sorry; can we come inside to have this conversation?"

"No," Erik said flatly and then added: "my house is being remodeled," lamely.

Detective Munoz's looked over to the empty driveway and back to Erik. "Right," he said skeptically. "Well, if you do hear from him, please contact us as soon as possible—we have some questions for him."

Erik took the card that Munoz offered him and watched as the two men turned and walked away.

"Oh and Mr. Lehnsherr," Detective Munoz tossed over his shoulder, "just to let you know—withholding information is against the law and you can and _will_ be arrested for it, if that just so happens to be the truth." He said coolly as he and his partner walked back to their black SUV.

Erik narrowed his eyes at their backs before closing his front door.

"I want his house bugged and phone lines tapped," Munoz said to Cassidy before they got back into the car.

"We'll need a warrant." Cassidy pointed out.

Munoz looked at the Lehnsherr estate. "We'll get one."

…

Erik's feet thundered up the stairs and down the hallway to his room. He whipped the doors open to his closet. "Get up Charles, we have to go now," he said as he looked down at the man. Charles popped up from his hiding spot and stood. "What did they want?"

"You!" Erik nearly snapped. He needed to remain calm—freaking out will only worry Charles. "Get rid of your cell phone and credit cards—they can all be traced."

Charles placed a calm hand on Erik's arm. "Erik, I don't have a cell phone or a credit card," he told him.

Oh right. Erik breathed a sigh. For the first time in five years he was relieved he didn't give Charles a card before he left, just transferred the money into an account with a false name. He wanted to give him a card, just in case he ran out of money, but Charles had assured him the amount he gave him was substantial enough for him to get by for quite some time.

"Come on Charles, we have to get out of here," he said as he drug the smaller man out of the closet.

"Wait," Charles protested, "Where exactly are we going?"

"Venice," Erik said quickly. He started off down the hallway with Charles.

"Venice?" Charles questioned, "Why Venice?"

"I have a second home there—it's under my alias—Max Eisenhardt."

Charles stopped dead in his tracks and pulled his arm free from Erik's grip. "You have an alias?" He demanded. Erik stopped too and looked at him before running a hand down his face. "Yes," he sighed. "I'm a very powerful man Charles—you should've already known that." He looked back at the young man. "Sometimes it's in a CEO's best interest to have some form of…protection."

"Protection?" Charles parroted back.

"Yes Charles," he said as level as he could. "I've already prepared for this. I transferred 5.3 million dollars to an offshore account a couple days before you left. No one knows about my home in Venice and my alias is untraceable. I have a private jet that will take us there." He took Charles by the upper arms. "You _will_ be safe Charles." He looked deadly serious into the smaller man's eyes.

Charles was speechless for a moment. He just looked back into Erik's eyes.

"You already planned for this before I even left?" He finally asked after a minute of silence.

Erik lowered his head and closed his eyes. "Yes," he said softly.

"Erik-" Charles said with astonishment.

Snapping his head back up and eyes open, Erik cut him off. "I always hoped you come back to me—I just... wanted to be prepared."

Blinking away the moister he felt in his eyes, Charles swallowed heavily. "I can't believe you did all that for me," he said so softly he wasn't even sure if he said it or not.

"I would do anything for you Charles," hell he's already obstructing justice for him, "Just say yes."

Nodding, Charles breathed out a yes.

Erik crushed their lips together.

…

"Don't worry about clothes—I already have everything we'll need at the house in Venice." Erik said as he looked in the rearview mirror of his Mercedes. He waited a little longer before backing out of his garage—he wanted to make sure the detectives were long gone.

How long does one wait before fleeing from the cops?

He didn't want to stay there too long though, he knew after that less than believable performance he gave at the front door that the detectives were sure to place a couple of stagnates outside his home and watch for suspicious activity. It wasn't safe to stay.

It wasn't safe for Charles.

"Jesus Erik, you sure were thorough—weren't you?" Charles questioned from the backseat in his hunkered down position. He sat back up when he noticed Erik wasn't quite leaving yet. "You really planned this out," he said gently, looking at the back of Erik's chair.

The older man turned around to face him. "Of course I did Charles—I wanted you to be safe once...if, you came back. Which you did," he added tenderly.

Charles blinked down at the ground. He couldn't seem to look the other man in the eyes. "Erik I…" he finally looked up, "thank you," he said softly.

A brief flicker of what looked like hope flashed over Erik's face but was gone as Charles finished his sentence. He smiled anyway. "Of course Charles," he murmured. He turned back to his rearview. "I think it's safe," he said.

"Oh wait!" Charles told him and went for the door. "There's just one thing I want to grab."

"Charles!" Erik called out but the younger man was already out the door and running back inside the house.

…

Erik nearly rolled his eyes when Charles returned with the chess set and a book; The Once and Future King. "I could have bought those things in Venice," he said as Charles climbed back in.

"I know, but now you don't," he said with a smile.

Something else caught Erik's eye as he looked through the rearview mirror, it was a glimmer of metal or something but he deemed it unimportant and shifted into reverse.

"You ready Charles?"

Chapter Four.

"Erik, your home is beautiful," Charles said in awe as he looked around the large estate.

"It's not my home," Erik said as he came up behind the shorter man and wrapped his arms around Charles' waist, "It's _ours_," he whispered gently into his ear. Charles' eyes fluttered shut as Erik placed a small kiss to the back of his ear.

"Oh Erik," he said breathless.

…

"And this is our bedroom," Erik said as he opened the door to the oversized room. Charles looked around, taking it all in—the four post bed, the large windows, the fireplace and even the sizable en suite restroom.

"It's beautiful Erik," Charles told him. He turned around to face he taller man, looking fondly at him. "Erik, did you buy this house before or after you knew me?" Erik looked away. "Erik?" Charles spoke softly as he made his way closer to the man. "Will you not answer me?" He cocked his head as he studied the older man.

"Does it matter?" Erik replied softly. He turned back to face Charles.

Shaking his head slowly, Charles never took his eyes off him. "No," he said, "I suppose not."

Answer or not, Charles still couldn't help but wonder just how far was Erik willing to go for him.

…

"Charles," Erik groaned out deeply. He buried his face into the brunet's shoulder. Charles wrapped his arms around Erik's back and held him close as the taller man fucked into him tenderly, almost slowly.

"You don't have to be so carefully Erik," Charles breathed out against Erik's hair, "you won't break me."

Continuing his slow but steady pace, Erik brought his head up to meet Charles' eyes. He looked at him intently for a second, mouth slightly open as his breath rasped in and out, before he sealed their lips together for a loving kiss. He never stopped thrusting his hips delicately against Charles' body, entering him slowly and unhurried. It nearly drove Charles mad with want. He moaned out and arched his back up, trying to force Erik's cock in deeper, but Erik simply reached down and place a hand on Charles' hip and pushed him back down onto the bed. Erik's other hand snaked around the back of Charles' shoulders as he held onto the smaller man while he fucked him.

"We're doing this my way tonight Charles," he whispered against his lips and then kissed him. Charles moaned lowly into the kiss and meshed his lips against Erik's. He knew he was defeated.

The kiss broke and Charles let out a breathy moan. He wrapped his legs tighter around Erik's waist—anchoring himself to the taller man's body as Erik sank in and out of him rhythmically.

"_Mmm_ Charles," Erik said lowly, "This is just as amazing as I remembered." He said with a breath before burying his face in the crook of Charles' neck again. Charles arched his neck and twisted his head to the side to compensate Erik. His own breath was becoming shallow as well.

"You've fucked me since I've been back," Charles panted out, in reference to Erik's comment.

Erik's lips latched onto Charles' neck and he let out a small muffled moan as he came inside of Charles, filling the younger man completely with his seed.

_Fucking_ is not the same as making love.

To Erik anyway.

…

"Here, let me get you Charles," Erik murmured. He was still trying to catch his breath a bit as he looked over at his bed partner. He reached for Charles' still hard cock.

"It's okay dear," Charles said with a smile as his head twisted over to meet Erik's gaze.

"Nonsense," Erik protested as he wrapped his hand around Charles' cock. He began stroking the other man steadily. "I thought I'd last longer," he muttered against Charles' neck before he placed a tender kiss there. Charles' eyes instantly slid shut as he relaxed more into the bed, letting Erik bring him to pieces with just his hand alone.

"Faster Erik," he breathed out on a moan, tipping his head up so Erik could suck on his neck better.

Erik leaned up a bit on his arm and sped up his hand movements, running his hand quickly over the smaller man's cock.

"Come for me Charles," Erik rasped out, his forehead resting on Charles' cheek now. His hand never stopped pumping.

A small broken whine left Charles' mouth and his eyes opened as he came, looking Erik deeply in the eyes as he did. And _that look_—that fucking look he was giving Erik.

Erik sealed their lips together quickly.

He didn't even want to get his hopes up.

…

"You don't have to do this Erik; I'm not upset about it anymore—really." Charles said as he looked down to Erik on the bed. He took a step closer, restraints in hand as he sat down next to the other man.

"I want you to," Erik replied. He leaned up quickly to bring Charles into a tender kiss. The kiss broke with a sound and Erik laid back down. He put his arms up above his head, watching Charles attentively.

"To the bed?" Charles asked, looking at the ropes in his hand.

Erik nodded. "Just like I had you. Blindfolded too."

Charles sighed. He had almost thought that Erik had forgotten about this. Forgotten that he left Charles tied to a fucking bed for nearly twenty minutes while he went to 'cool down'. He didn't think it was necessary for Erik to do this—but if it would make his former Master feel better—he would. He eyed Erik's state of dress.

"As I recall, I was wearing a lot less clothing than you are," Charles said with a cocked eyebrow. "Shall I remove your clothes as well?"

Smirking, Erik just said: "I think we should skip that part," he crossed his arms at the wrists, "that would just lead to other things."

Charles' own smirk appeared over his face at the thought. "Yes—I suppose you're right," he murmured as he slipped one of the restraints around Erik's crossed wrist and tied a knot before using the longer rope to fasten him to the bedposts. Next he held up the necktie. "Blindfold too?"

Erik nodded, watching Charles' every move.

"You don't have to dear," Charles tried again. "I still think this whole thing is terribly unnecessary."

"Please Charles," the older man said. He watched as his former slave leaned forward on the bed and placed a soft kiss to his lips before muttering: "Fine—it if will make you happy." Charles then placed the tie over his eyes and secured the back.

"Happy?" Charles asked as he got up and took a step back from the bed.

"Yes." Erik told him blindly. "Twenty minutes?"

Charles looked at the man that controlled his life five years ago. "Yes," he mumbled, "Twenty minutes."

…

Charles returned two hours later. He leaned against the doorframe with crossed arms and looked at a clearly pissed off Erik.

"Charles, are you there?" Erik said angrily, "I've been calling for you for hours now! What the fuck!" He thrashed around on the bed, trying to break free from his ties. "Charles! Get the fuck over here and untie me now! I've been worried sick about you you fucking _prat_! I thought you'd run off!"

Whipping the blindfold off Erik's face, Charles glared down at him. Erik looked at him equally as pissed. "What the _fuck_ Charles! How long have I been tied up? I said _twenty fucking minutes_!"

Tossing the blindfold off to the side, Charles crossed his arms again and made no move to further untie the other man. "It's been a little over two hours, and you know what? It still doesn't seem like justice for what you did to me."

Erik was truly shocked. What had prompted Charles to act like this? He didn't even want to do this in the first place. It had been Erik's idea—Charles had barely agreed. Since when was he hell bent on revenge? "Justice? For what? You didn't even want to do this—I fucking asked you! What the hell has gotten into you?"

"Oh piss off Erik," Charles snapped. "I was gonna come back after twenty minutes, but after I saw you all tied up and venerable—it just brought back so much. So many memories. All the times you left me tied to your bed on a leash and fucking collar!" He glared at the man he use to have so much hate for. "I should have left you for longer," he sneered.

"Untie me _now Charles_," Erik barked at him, "This was not the agreement. I can't believe you would do this to me after all that I've done for you!" He twisted his hands even more against the ropes, causing his wrists to burn.

"All you've done for me!" Charles spat back at him like it was poison. "You kept me as a goddamn sex slave! What have you done for me?"

"What—_what have I done for you_?" Erik repeated back, on the verge of hysteria. "This house! My money! Lying to the cops! Taking you to another country so you wouldn't get caught! _Setting you fucking free._ Did you forget about that Charles? Did you forget that without me you'd still be a goddamn sex slave!" He looked at the other man with fire in his eyes. "How dare you say I've done nothing for you?"

"You only set me free because you fell in love with me and started to feel guilty. Don't act like you did it out of the goodness of your heart!" Charles snapped back.

Erik's eyes narrowed. "How dare you," he growled. "I set you free _because_ I loved you—not because I felt guilty. I already told you—I didn't know fully what I was getting myself into when I…when I boug…_purchased_ you—I never used you for anything other than a companion!" His eyes narrowed even further. "I never took you to parties—let other people have a turn at you…let people _fuck_ you for money," he sneered. It was true—most other slave owner he came to know did horrible things to their slaves. One man had once told him that he took his to parties and let a group of men run a train on her as he watched—fucking sick prick; it got him off. Another let his potential clients fuck his slave—said it helped bring in a lot of business—he'd even rent his slave out to some of his higher up clients at a decent price.

Never did Erik have any thoughts of that when he'd brought Charles home. Charles was his—all his-and he would never have shared. Let alone let other people _fuck_ him while he watched—what sick fuck wants to see that? Not Erik—that would only further anger him. Nobody touches Charles but Erik.

"So," Charles said with a sick laugh, "You think that because you _didn't_ treat me as horrible as you could have—that you didn't let other people _fuck_ me—that you're the good guy here?" He looked at Erik judgingly. "You really don't have a fucking clue—do you?"

"Where the _fuck_ is all this coming from?" Erik yelled. Fuck angry—he was bloody livid.

Charles shook his head. "You know what, fuck it—this didn't help—I don't feel any better," he said as he started to untie Erik's bonds. "I guess I thought maybe you'd feel some remorse for what you did to me—feel the smallest bit guilty for the way you treated me," he released Erik from his ties, letting the other man's arms drop down, "I guess I was wrong—you are just a heartless, uncaring prick."

Next thing Charles knew, Erik's fist came in contact with his face, smashing into his left eye.

…

It was pitch dark in the room that Charles slept in—the bed unfamiliar—the room unfamiliar. Hell the whole bloody house felt cold and distant.

Warmth slid up next to him in the bed and an arm wrapped around his waist. He felt a face burry into his back and heard what sounded like a small, muffled sob between his shoulderblades.

"I'm sorry, I'm so, so _fucking_ sorry—I'm so sorry Charles. _I'm sorry_." Erik repeated over and over again, burying his face deeper into Charles' back. The younger man finally turned to face his unexpected bed guest.

From the small amount of glowing light that was let in from Erik opening the door, the older man could see the black eye that he'd given his lover. It made his stomach churn and his heart shatter. Never did he ever want to hurt Charles; never did he think he'd lay a finger on him.

But what Charles did and said crossed the line. Crossed a line that Erik didn't even know existed.

"I'm so sorry Charles," Erik whispered, "I never meant to hurt you—I don't know what came over me," he ran a shaky hand through Charles' hair. "What you said...what you said Charles was _bullshit_," he swallowed heavily, "To even suggest that I didn't, that I _don't_ care about you—it's rubbish—it's _crap_. I care about you more than I've ever cared about anyone in my life and that's even including myself." He ran his hand down Charles' face, careful not to touch his swollen eye. "But if you think for even one second that I didn't— that I _don't_ still feel guilty about what I did to you—you're a fucking brainless twat. I hate myself for doing that to you," he said heart wrenchingly, emotion pouring from his soul, "I hate myself more and more everyday for keeping you as a slave and I only did all this—the house, evading the cops, leaving my company, leaving my life—for you, in hopes that you'd find it in your heart to see how truly sorry I am and see how much shit I feel like, to be able to forgive me." He took in a shaky breath. "And I still can't believe you came back to me—I don't even know why you did." He was silent for a moment.

"I wouldn't have come back to me," he said softly.

Charles just looked at him in the darkness.

"Why did you come back Charles?" He asked almost so dimly that is was under a whisper. "Why did you come back?"

Charles took in a small breath.

"Because I did Erik."

…

"I'm sorry Erik," Charles said gently as he looked down at his cup of tea from his spot at the kitchen table. "I was out of line last night—I should have never left you tied up for that long." He sighed. "I honestly don't know what came over me—I guess just all this shit that happened so fast—the cops showing up, us leaving country," he looked up at Erik, "It's all so real now," he said quietly, "I'm under so much stress I don't even know how to function correctly anymore."

Erik had already gotten up and made his way over to Charles. He sank down to his knees and wrapped his arms around the smaller man's waist and looked up at him. "Don't Charles," he said softly, "Don't you dare apologize to me—I'm the one who crossed the line—I'm the one who should be forever sorry." He shook his head with a thick swallow. "I will never let anything happen to you—I will never let the cops find you. They'll have to kill me first before they you take you away, because I don't want to live without you… I _won't_ live without you," he finished with pain in his voice.

Charles' heart nearly broke in two. He rested his cheek on top of Erik's head. "I don't doubt your sorrow," he muttered, "I can practically feel it in my own heart." He closed his eyes and swallowed. "But you…you _hit me_." Erik buried his face against Charles as a small broken sob left his lips. Charles went on. "You hit me after you knew what I went through with Kurt—after I told you how he used to beat me—and yet you still did it." His eyes fluttered open. He stared at the kitchen table as he felt Erik's body shake against him.

"I'm sorry Charles," Erik said brokenly against him. He wasn't crying, but he was damn close. Erik Lehnsherr did not fucking cry. The last time he'd cried was at his mother's funeral—and he was ten at the time. He brought his face out of Charles' shirt and looked up at the man he'd betrayed so much. His eyes were red and watery, but no tears dared to slip out. "I'm so sorry Charles," he said again, shaking his head. "I was just so angry that you said that—that you said I was a heartless bastard and that I didn't at all feel bad for what I did when all I wanted to do was protect you, keep you safe—keep you out of harm's way—make you see how truly sorry I am for even having you as my slave, even if it would have only been for one minute." He took in a rickety breath and smashed his cheek against Charles' chest. "Can you ever forgive me for hitting you?" He asked with a whisper and closed eyes.

Charles sighed. He slowly picked up his hand and ran it through Erik's hair. The older man let out a ragged breath, keeping his eyes closed. "I almost don't blame you," Charles said carefully, "I agree with you—what I said to you last night was just plain poison—I was only trying to get a reaction out of you." He continued to stroke the blond's hair. "I know you care about me—you wouldn't have brought me to Venice if you didn't. And I know you're sorry for keeping me as a slave—I know that's why you let me go," Erik started to pull back as if to protest that or add something to it but Charles stopped him by holding him tightly to his chest, "and before you say anything, I know it was also because you loved me," he rested his cheek on top of Erik's head again. "But you know as well as I do that you also let me go because you didn't feel right as a human being keeping me as a pet. You have good in you Erik—I've seen it." He sighed softly against the older man's head. "But you still hit me," he whispered as his eyelids slid closed. A single tear rolled down his face and landed in Erik's hair.

Closing his eyes tighter against Charles' chest, Erik let out another broken sound. "Can you ever forgive me?" He asked again.

Almost a full minute passed before Charles spoke again. He opened his eyes and brought his face up off Erik's head before tipping the other man's face up to meet eyes. Erik looked absolutely wrecked—it almost made Charles' heart ache. Charles blinked away a few of his own straggling tears. He took in another deep breath and Erik watched him as if his life depended on what Charles would say next.

"I think in time," Charles started slowly, "that I may be able to find it in my heart, to forgive you."

Chapter Five.

A small patch of yellow was all that was left on Charles' once blacken eye. He stood in front of the bathroom mirror and studied his reflection. He touched the still tender skin under his left eye. He had to hand it to Erik—the man knew how to throw a good right hook.

Although, if Charles is to be honest, he suspects Erik didn't give him his all.

He sighed. How can he stay? Can he really trust Erik? Sure, he'd done more for Charles than anyone else in his life ever has. But does that excuse the fact that Erik used to fucking own him—keep him tied up and on lockdown—force Charles to have sex with him—treat him…

Well, Erik did treat Charles better than most—almost nicely if he's to be fair. Erik at least let Charles have range of the library and even the whole house after awhile. Hell—Erik even let him go into town and took him out to restaurants. No other Master had done that before—hadn't even come close for fucks sake. Before, he was kept in a bloody cage—Erik never caged him. He let Charles share a bed with him. That would have been laughable if any of his previous Master's would have even had that thought cross their minds.

No. Charles was kept in a cage. Not a small one—not like a dog crate or anything—but still, a fucking cage. No bed, just a blanket and a pillow. Nothing to do all day but wait—wait to be used and fucked and forced to service others.

Charles lowered his head and let out the breath he didn't realize he was holding. He gripped the edge of the counter and let his eyes slip shut. It didn't help. Killing all his previous owner's—all the other fucks that treated him the wrong way—Kurt—Azazel.

It just didn't matter. He still felt hollow on the inside—lost—helpless. Fucked.

A tear escaped from his eye, even though it was squeezed shut. He let out another breath.

"Charles?" Came Erik's deep voice. He came up behind the younger man.

Charles let out another breath, softer this time, and wiped his face as he looked up through the mirror at Erik's reflection.

"You're crying," Erik said gently as he wrapped his arms around Charles' waist, resting his chin on the shorter man's shoulder. He looked at his lover through the mirror.

Instantly, Charles' emptiness and helplessness was replaced with something else—something he'd never felt before. A new sensation. He squeezed his eyes shut again and turned his head to the side so that his cheek rested against Erik's head. Another rickety breath was drawn in and Charles finally spoke.

"I'm fine," he lied. He opened his eyes and saw Erik watching him—doubt in his grey-green eyes.

"Charles," Erik said tenderly, "You know you can tell me anything—talk to me about whatever you need. Whatever may be bothering you." He nuzzled his head against Charles' face before lifting it up off of the younger man's shoulder and pressing their temples together. "I love you Charles," he murmured, looking at them together in the mirror.

"Love me enough to hit me," Charles spat out suddenly. He twisted out of Erik's grasp.

"Fuck Charles—how long are you going to hold that over me?" Erik hissed right back, narrowing his eyes at the younger man.

"As long as damn well please," Charles snapped out before stalking out of the bathroom, slamming the door on his way.

"_Fuck_." Erik yelled before landing his fist against the wall.

…

"Hit me."

"Pardon?" Charles looked up from the newspaper he couldn't seem to care about.

Erik squatted down next to Charles' chair and looked up at him. "I want you to hit. As hard as you can, right in the face."

Charles snorted. He threw his newspaper across the table and looked away from Erik. "You're bloody mad."

"Please," Erik said, reaching for Charles' hand. He placed a quick kiss to it before looking back up at his former slave. "I want you to." He closed his eyes and placed his cheek on Charles' hand.

Charles swallowed, still not looking at Erik. He wore a look of annoyance on his normally fine featured face. But feeling Erik's warm skin pressed against his hand was almost enough to ripple his body with forgiveness.

Almost.

"You think that's the solution for everything—don't you?" Charles questioned plainly. He finally turned his head towards the graveling man beneath him. "You think retaliation is the answer? That it will forever make us even?" A small sad laugh came from Charles as he looked back at the table. "That is not how this works, my friend" he said bitterly.

"This? _This_? What IS this?" Erik suddenly snapped out, looking up at Charles with confusion and anger in his eyes. "I tell you I love you every damn day and you don't even bat your eyes at it. I would give up my _life_ for you, and sometimes I feel as if you could just walk away at any moment without even so much as a glance back." He took in a trembling breath, pain in his eyes. "So you tell me, what _this_ is."

Charles was silent for a moment. He continued to look off towards the other end of the room before he spoke again.

"I don't know," he said slowly, "a situation in which we have lots of great sex and if you get mad your temper takes it out on my face."

Erik looked up at Charles with a look of sheer disgust on his face before it turned to rage. "What do you _want_ from me?" He yelled, utter hopelessness in his soul.

Charles lowered his head with a sigh. He shifted his eyes over to Erik's face.

"I don't know."

Erik's cheek landed on Charles' leg as a single tear slid down his face.

…

The bed was colder than normal, and it didn't help that Charles was alone. He rolled over on his back and looked at the clock. It was nearly midnight and Erik still wasn't home. He tried not to worry, but he found it harder and harder not to wonder what might have happened to the other man.

Was he not coming home? Did he book into a hotel for the night? Was he out fucking someone else?

Charles closed his eyes at that last one. He rolled back onto his side and closed his eyes. He shouldn't be thinking about that. He shouldn't be this invested in the other man. Sure—Erik was the reason why Charles was where he was now, but that still didn't excuse his sudden mood swings and outbursts.

Truth be told—Charles didn't know what he wanted—didn't know what he should be feeling towards the man that once owned him. The man that freed him, then took him back, and then helped him evade the cops.

What did he want from Erik?

The door to their room opened slowly and Erik stumbled in.

"Erik?" Charles asked as he sat up in bed. Erik made his way over closer and crashed down to his knees on the floor by Charles' side of the bed.

Flipping on the small lamp on the bedside table, Charles gasped when he saw the other man.

"_Erik_," he said with a whisper, "what have you done?"

Looking at Charles the best he could with one eye swollen shut and purple, and a busted and still bleeding lip, Erik just shook his head gently. "I did it for you," he rattled out in a hushed tone.

Charles ran his thumb across the gash on Erik's cheek; looking at the other man with so much pain and sadness on his face it nearly broke Erik's heart. "Oh Erik," he muttered, "You bloody idiot," he said before bringing the taller man into bed with him. "Stupid, _stupid_, idiot," he said softly as he brought Erik close to him, wrapping his arms around the older man as they laid in bed together.

Erik buried his face into Charles' neck and allowed himself to be held. He took in a deep breath, inhaling all of Charles' essences and scents before closing his eyes and relaxing against the man he loved so dear.

"I did it for you," Erik repeated quietly, burying his face deeper into the smaller man's chest.

Charles held onto him, staring off across the other side of the room with a look of disbelief. "I know you did," he said plainly, but not unkindly, "I know."

…

This morning, it was Erik's turn to stand in front of the mirror and address his wounds. He tenderly touched the puffy skin under his eye with his fingertips. He hissed. Yeah, still fucking painful—if not worse than the night before—now that he was sober. He started picking at the dried blood on his bottom lip.

"Stop that," came Charles' voice as he entered the washroom. He looked at Erik with a cocked head before shaking it. "Don't pick at it—that's gross." He made his way closer and grabbed a washcloth from the basket by the sink and wet it. "Here, let me," he said lightly as he hopped up on the counter and pulled Erik between his legs. He dabbed the warm washcloth to Erik's lip, blotting the dried blood off of it best he could.

Erik drew in a sharp breath at the initial sting but quickly got distracted when he looked down and noticed a patch of blood on Charles' nightshirt.

His blood.

"Sorry," Erik said suddenly, bringing his face up and meeting Charles' eyes.

The younger man's hand froze in midair with the cloth still in it, just inches away from Erik's lip. He looked questionably at the taller man. "For what?" He asked with genuine curiosity.

Erik's eyes drifted back down to Charles' chest. "I got blood on your shirt last night."

The brunet let out an irritated sigh with an almost eyeroll. "_Bloody hell_," he mumbled, "I don't care about my shirt Erik," he said as he went back to cleaning up the other man's lip, "It's a nightshirt—it hardly matters." He dabbed Erik's lip once more.

"I know," Erik said after Charles lowered the cloth away from his mouth. "I'm still sorry."

"It's fine," Charles said with a chuckle. He smiled softly at Erik. "I'm more concerned about your poor face," he said with truth. Erik's heart panged a little at that look. He reached out and ran a hand through Charles' hair. "Don't worry about me," he muttered before leaning closer to place a kiss to the brunet's lips.

But Charles turned his face and Erik's lips landed on his cheek instead. Clearing his throat, Charles looked back at Erik. "So, you want to tell me exactly what happened by the way? You go out and get drunk and start a fight just so you could get your ass beat to a bloody pulp?"

Looking down, Erik smiled sheepishly before looking up at Charles with a guilty face. "Maybe?" He winced.

Charles had to resist the urge to smile himself; instead, he gave Erik a chiding look. "You're a bloody fool Erik Lehnsherr," he said unforgivingly.

Chuckling smally, Erik grinned at the man sitting on the counter. He pressed himself closer between Charles' legs. "I seem to recall you saying that to me last night as well."

"Yeah, well, I meant it," Charles muttered as he looked away.

Erik placed his hands on Charles' backside, bringing him closer to the edge of the sink as he pressed his body against the younger man's. "Charles..." he said lowly as he rubbed his face against the other man's neck.

"_Erik_," Charles warned, trying to put some distance between them. He tried to push back from Erik but the taller man just held on more, wrapping his arms tighter around Charles' waist.

"_I love you_ Charles," he said into his shoulder.

Charles sighed. "I know you do Erik."

…

"You think we're even now?" Charles asked Erik over breakfast.

Erik looked up from his coffee. He frowned, causing his lip to split open again slightly and bleed.

"No—of course not."

…

Erik laid Charles down on the couch and trailed kisses down his body.

"Erik," he said faintly, "You don't have to," he brought his head up to look down at Erik as the older man worked his way down Charles' still clothed body, "Your lips not healed yet—I don't want you to bust it open again," he breath out as Erik lifted the hem of Charles' shirt up and attacked his stomach with wet and sloppy kisses.

"Be quiet Charles," Erik mumbled against the British man's pale skin before swiping his tongue across it as well.

A small bubbling laugh left Charles' mouth. He eyed Erik with wonder. "If that is your idea of dirty talk, I'm sorry to say my friend, you are doing poorly at it."

This time it was Erik that laughed against Charles' skin as his lips continued to trail across his stomach and lower. "Just...shut up Charles," he smiled as he pulled down Charles' pants just enough to place a kiss to his hipbone.

"Oh Erik," Charles said mockingly with an eyeroll and huge grin, "keep talking to me like that—it's turning me on _so_ much."

Erik crawled his way up Charles' body with a smirk and sealed their lips together shamelessly for a hot and passionate kiss.

Pulling away after a moment with a breath, Charles looked fondly at the man above him. "Erik," he started softly, but Erik just shushed him and said: "Just kiss me Charles," quietly.

…

"Erik," Charles gasped out, tipping his head back onto the arm of the couch as Erik rolled his hips forward slowly and slid his cock into him again. Erik pressed their lips together and muffled all of Charles' moans as he fucked into the smaller man, holding him closely as he made love to Charles.

Closing his eyes and turning his head to the side, Charles exposed his neck for Erik and Erik graciously took it, sucking hotly at the tender skin. Charles gasped again and Erik sped up his thrusts, burying his cock deeper inside of the younger man with every push.

Every push in was another breath out for Charles until he was all out panting. His head tipped all the way back until his neck was bent back as far as it could go across the arm of the couch, his eyes were closed—until Erik reached his hand around to cup the back of Charles' head. He forced the younger man to look back at him.

"I want to look in your eyes while I'm inside you Charles," he rasped out, his own breath straining and going shallow. He pumped his hips more and more against Charles' body, fucking into him with all he had. With a quick shift of his hips, Erik switched the angle at which he was fucking into Charles a couple of times before he hit what he was looking for. Charles let out a sharp gasp followed by a low moan and Erik smiled as he continued to brush his cock past Charles' prostate, over and over again.

Charles' head came up off the couch and his mouth opened slightly as he panted loudly and looked Erik deep in the eyes. His body was completely sweaty and sticky but so was Erik's so he didn't care—all he cared was that Erik's cock was inside of him and was the best thing he'd ever felt before and no one had even ever came close to making him feel as utterly wrecked as he did in that moment.

Erik watch intently as he made Charles break into pieces from underneath him. He snapped his hips and drove his cock in him relentlessly until Charles was nearly crying, begging to be touched—so Erik shot his hand down to wrap around the younger man's cock and began stroking frantically all while still fucking him within an inch of his life.

When Charles came, it was near explosive—he slammed his lips into Erik's, his moan stifled against the other man's mouth. He coated most of his own stomach and Erik's fingers with his seed as Erik continued to run his hand tightly over Charles' cock, squeezing out all the juice he could.

Erik's own release snuck up on him while he was finishing Charles off—he rolled his hips up a couple more times before he too was following Charles in suit—his orgasm rocking through his body and filling Charles deeply. Erik brought up the hand that was previously on Charles' cock, now all covered in sticky warmth, and placed it on the arm of the couch next to Charles' head and used it to pull himself into Charles a couple more times—a last few deep and slow thrusts before he was positive they were both spent.

Sweaty and hot, Erik placed his forehead down onto Charles' shoulder as he caught his breath—one deep inhale after another. Charles too was working on returning his breathing to normal. He placed one hand lower on Erik's body while the other came to rest in the blond's hair. Erik finally brought his head up and looked at Charles with all the affection in the world, still breathing slightly ragged.

Charles watched Erik and Erik watched Charles—neither of them daring to say a thing.

…

"Shower with me?" Erik asked as he looked back at Charles, who was still lying boneless on the couch. He smiled proudly and pulled his pants back up.

Rolling just his head to look at the other man, Charles' arm flopped to the side and a small smile spread across his face. "I would fancy a shower very much, thank you," he said before he pushed himself up with a small groan. Erik chuckled and tossed Charles his own pants— although he didn't see any point in the man putting them back on, seeing how as soon as they got to their room he'd be naked again. But Charles still slipped them on wordlessly as Erik watched. Then Charles' head snapped up and he cocked it to the side with an arched eyebrow. "Now, when you say shower—you mean, just a shower, right?" He asked suspiciously.

Another sly smile came over Erik's face and he shot Charles a look of keenness. "Of course Charles," he said lovingly, "Just a shower."

…

Erik kissed Charles helplessly as water from the showerhead sprayed over them, covering both their bodies with warm water as it drizzled down them in streams.

Wrapping his arms around Erik's back, Charles leaned up on his toes to get a better angle at kissing the taller man. Erik cupped Charles' face with both his hands as he pressed more into the kiss before bringing one hand up to card through the side of the brunet's hair—holding his head steady while he meshed his lips to Charles'.

Charles angled his head better and moaned when Erik slipped his tongue past the younger man's lips and into his mouth. Their tongues fought against each other in a daze of fury and lust. Charles could feel Erik's arousal pressing against him and he pulled away with a gasp. He looked up at Erik as he lowered himself back down onto his feet, water still streaming over both their bodies and faces.

"I thought," Charles said with a breath, "you said, this was just a shower."

Erik grinned devilishly and brought Charles back into him with an arm around the waist, hoisting the smaller man up against his wet and slick body. "I lied," he purred out and then sealed their lips back together firmly.

…

"Hold still and let me look at it," Charles said as he sat up on the bathroom counter, Erik between his legs. He dabbed at the gash on Erik's cheek and Erik let out a hiss. "I think it's infected," he murmured as he looked carefully at Erik's face.

Erik, who still only had a towel around his waist, made to move away from Charles, "It's fine," he said as he tried to go for his clothes, but Charles caught him by the wrist and pulled him back. "No, it's not fine—it's infected," Charles said, "now get me the Neosporin and a bandage." Erik grumbled something under his breath but headed to the closet anyway and grabbed what Charles desired. He walked back over to the smaller man and handed the items to him. Charles set the bandage down on the counter next to him and removed the cap from the tube of disinfectant.

"This won't sting," he said softly, "but I wish it would." He applied a small amount of the cream to Erik's cheek. "It'd serve you right for going out just to start a fight." He placed the tube down on the counter and picked up the bandage next. "I swear Erik—sometimes I just don't understand you. What in the hell got into your crazy mind that made you think it would be a good idea to go out and try and get your ass beat by a stranger."

Erik closed the eye that Charles was working under and smirked a little. "I don't know," he said faintly, "I just knew that you wouldn't hit me, so I had to go out and find someone else too."

"And that still doesn't make us even," Charles said quickly and quietly before he sighed. He set the paper from the bandage down next to the Neosporin and shook his head at Erik. "Honesty, what did you do; go find the biggest man you could and tell him you fucked his mother?"

Erik had to laugh at that—he didn't think Charles had it in him to be so blunt. He nestled between Charles' legs and wrapped both arms around his waist. "If you _must_ know," Erik said with a hint of humor, "I did pay particular attention to a burly man in a flannel shirt all evening until he finally got sick of me and took me out back for a much deserved roughing up."

Charles deadpanned. "So you hit on him all night?"

"Yep." Erik said proudly.

"Even though, he was clearly _not_ gay."

"Indeed."

"And then, he beat the shit out of you?"

"Correct."

Charles eyed Erik wryly. "And what is _that_ from?" He pointed at the round scorch mark on Erik's chest he didn't see until the taller man had taken his shirt off.

"Ah," Erik said in revelation, "_That_ is a burn mark—I discovered the man came with a cigar that seemed to be permanently fashioned to his mouth. Until he took it out to place it on my chest that is."

Charles winced at just the thought. He looked back at Erik with a look of hopelessness. "Have I told you that you're an utter fool lately?"

Erik smirked. "You have."

Sighing, Charles looked down as he brought Erik closer, wrapping his arms around to taller man and placing his chin on Erik's shoulder. He swung his legs back and forth as he sat on the bathroom counter and took in a deep breath before asking softly: "And what if he would have welcomed your advances?"

Erik closed his eyes and leaned his head more into Charles', hugging in back tightly. "Then I would have hightailed it out of there and back home to the only man that truly holds my heart."

Charles closed his eyes as well and let out a breath.

It was, acceptable.

Chapter Six.

"Erik?" Charles looked over at the man next to him in bed. He rolled on his side and smiled at the older man. Erik matched his smile and placed a hand on Charles' hip. "Do you think we can go out tonight? I feel like I've been cooped up in this house for months."

Erik's smile turned into a frown. Charles 'had' been cooped up in the house for months—but there was a reason for that. "Charles," he started earnestly, "It's not safe for you to go out…you're still wanted."

Eyes' lowering down, Charles looked sadly at the sheets. "I know," he said faintly, tracing his finger along a crease in the bed sheets, "It's just… I'm starting to feel like a…" he finished the last part so quietly that Erik almost didn't hear.

But he did.

"A _slave_," Erik said as he rolled onto his back and looked up at the ceiling, "You feel like a fucking slave again." It seemed no matter what Erik did, he could never make Charles happy. He uprooted his entire life and moved to Venice. Left his company high and dry without even explaining where he was going or why. He would move Heaven and Earth to make Charles happy.

But nothing seemed to help.

"_Fuck_," Erik said softly as he sat up. He rested his arms on bent knees and placed his chin on top of them. Charles chased him up, placing a hand on Erik's bicep. "Erik, it's okay," he said kindly, "I understand." He did—he really did. He knew what he got himself into. One doesn't just go around murdering people and then expect to walk around like nothing happened. Walk around like a free man.

In a way—Charles condemned himself to slavery this time.

"It's okay," Charles said again. He touched temples with Erik. "I did this to myself," he murmured.

Leaning more into the man next to him, Erik closed his eyes and exhaled. "I don't care Charles—I still don't like you feeling like this—it's the last thing that I'd want. I want you to feel free—not feel like a goddamn slave again." He opened his eyes and turned his head to face Charles. "Because you're not," he whispered before sealing their lips together.

…

"Charles," Erik called from the bathroom, "Could you come in here please? I think I have a solution to your going out in public dilemma."

A second or two passed before Charles made his way into the en suite bathroom. He looked at the taller man.

"Piss off Erik," he said before turning and leaving.

Erik looked down at the hair clippers in his hand with a smirk.

Eh, it was worth a shot.

…

Later that day, Erik called for Charles again and the younger man made his way into the living room that Erik occupied.

"I swear to god Erik," Charles said as he rounded the corner, "If I see a bottle of peroxide anywhere near you, I'm gonna punch you in the face." He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the doorframe.

Looking a mix between shock and guilt, Erik blinked at the brunet. "I can't believe you'd even accuse me of such things," he gave Charles a betrayed looked before adding: "Besides, what's wrong with being blond?"

"_You_, look good as a blond," Charles said as he came off the door and walked closer to the man on the couch, who did not at all push a mysterious brown bottle under said couch with his foot, and looked down at Erik with a cocked eyebrow. "_I_ would look like a 5$ rent boy."

The mental image was enough to make Erik breakout in a guilty grin. "5$? You're worth at least 10 Charles." Erik ducked the hand that swatted at him. He grabbed Charles by the wrist and brought him down on the couch with him. Charles pouted slightly but Erik kissed it right off his face.

"You wanna go out tonight? We can go out tonight," Erik told him seriously, running a hand down Charles' cheek.

The younger man sighed, leaning into Erik's caresses. "I don't want to shave my hair," he said gently. He flashed his eyes up to the German, "Or dye it blond," he added sternly. Erik ducked his head with a smirk.

"I'm serious Erik," Charles said as he turned in Erik's lap to face him, "I am very fond of my hair the way it is, and I don't plan on changing it anytime soon."

"Alright, alright," The taller man said, defeat in his voice, smirk on his face. "I get it—don't touch the hair." He leaned his head to the side and looked at Charles fondly. "You don't have to change your looks. We can still go out."

The look on Charles' face was heart-stopping. He looked at Erik like the man just offered him the world on a silver platter. It nearly broke Erik. "We can go out, really?" He questioned like it was bound to be some kind of sick joke.

Nodding his head, Erik replied: "Of course. Somewhere quiet though, not a lot of people—we don't want you to get recognized."

Charles furrowed his brows and stuck his bottom lip out just ever so slightly. Erik really wished he wouldn't do that. "You really think anyone would recognize me here? We're in Italy—I highly doubt that the police are out looking for me."

"They're not," Erik said plainly, "but they still get world news over here. I don't know exactly how many people you killed Charles, and I don't want to know," he added quickly before Charles could inform him—because it didn't matter—none of it mattered to Erik. In his eyes Charles was perfect. "So there's still a chance that you could be up there on the most wanted list. We still have to be careful." Of course they did. Erik would never let anything happen to Charles—he would die before he let anyone take Charles away from him.

"You're right," Charles looked down again, but the small smile on his face told Erik that he was still beyond thrilled at the idea of going out. He looked back up to meet Erik's eyes. "We'll be careful—I promise. We don't even have to go anywhere fancy. I'd be happy to just go eat at a park." He placed his hand over Erik's. "As long as I'm with you," he added dimly.

This time, Erik's heart did break—but in a good way.

…

"This is beautiful Erik, thank you for taking me here." Charles said as he looked out across the water. He turned to Erik with a soft smile.

"Are you sure you don't want to go somewhere for dinner?" Erik asked quietly as he too looked out over the lake.

Still smiling, Charles simply shook his head. "No, I think I'll take you up on your offer to cook for me," he nudged the taller man with his shoulder. Erik resisted the urge to sigh. He glanced over at Charles with a knowing look. "You weren't supposed to call my bluff."

"But I did," Charles said with a wink.

"Fine," Erik grumbled but didn't really mean it. He placed an arm around Charles' shoulder and brought the smaller man closer. "I hope you like leftover meatloaf and bland mashed potatoes," he said dryly.

Charles chuckled, "Oh no—you're not getting off that easy—you have to actually _make_ something for me." He leaned into Erik more and nuzzled his face against the taller man's neck.

"Alright, alright," Erik said defeated, "I'm sure I can whip something up for us."

"Good," Charles said graciously, "and then maybe I can show you how thankful I am for that later," he finished with a murmur. Erik's eyebrows rose as he glanced over at the man in his arms. "Oh yeah?" He questioned softly.

Charles just tipped his head up and sealed their lips together in answer.

…

Erik slammed Charles up against the hallway wall and kissed his neck furiously, attacking it with his teeth and lips and tongue until Charles gasped sharply. He pulled away and looked deeply into the younger man's eyes. "Too rough?" He questioned and Charles wordlessly nodded, his chest rising and falling with every breath. He braced himself against the wall, both palms flat on the surface. Erik looked predatorily at him.

"_Too bad_," Erik ground out before reaching out and pinning both of Charles' hands to the wall. He went for Charles' neck again, sinking his teeth into the soft flesh, making the younger man cry out in pain. Charles tipped his head up and tried to get away from Erik's hold but the older man had him in both height and strength. Erik tightened his grip on Charles' wrists, hard enough to leave bruises, he pinned Charles' hands up above his head as he continued to kiss down Charles' neck and chest harshly.

"_Stop it_ Erik," Charles choked out firmly and tried to wriggle away. Erik pulled away and looked at Charles with a smirk before pulling him off the wall and into his arms. "_No_," he said with authority and then pressed his lips unforgivingly to Charles'. Charles fought back, pushing at Erik's chest with his hands but Erik only held him closer. He worked his tongue into the younger man's mouth and probed it all along the inside. Charles bit down and Erik pulled back with a curse. He looked at Charles with a glare.

"You little bitch," he hissed. He grabbed the shorter man by the neck of his shirt and dragged him the rest of the way down the hallway. Charles reached out for anything he could—pictures, tables, vases—anything he could get his hands on. Erik laughed at Charles' failed attempt and looked back as the younger man destroyed his hallway in an effort to get free. "Save your energy Charles," Erik said unkindly, "You're gonna need it for when I'm fucking you into the mattress." He spun Charles around and slammed him up against the wall by the bedroom door and pressed against him with his body, trapping the smaller man. He brought his lips close to Charles' and whispered, "Because the more you fight me in bed Charles—the harder I'm gonna fuck you."

Charles whimper, but then his eyes turned cold a split second later. He brought his knee up and drove it into Erik's stomach, causing the taller man to double over. Charles went to send his elbow to Erik's face next but the other man reached up and grabbed Charles' arm before he had the chance. He straightened himself back up, tightened his grip on Charles' arm so much that the younger man groaned out and sunk down slightly as Erik held onto him. "Big mistake Charles," Erik said through gritted teeth. He then shoved the smaller man through the doorway and onto the bed.

"Be a good boy now Charles and just take your own clothes off for me," Erik said as he loosened the tie around his neck. He looked down at Charles cowering on the bed. "Don't make me do it—I won't be as gentle." He took a step closer to Charles.

"Fuck off!" Charles spat out at the other man. He kicked at Erik as the older man made his way closer to the bed. Erik grabbed Charles' feet and pulled him back closer to the edge. "Fine then," Erik sneered out, "guess we'll just have to do it the hard way." He ripped Charles' shoes off and then pushed him down on the bed, kneeing his way up the smaller man's body. Charles tried to fight back but Erik quickly grabbed his flailing arms and pinned them down to the bed harshly. He used one hand to hold both Charles' wrists together while the other one worked on undoing his pants. He managed to remove the younger man's slacks one handed while still pinning him down to the bed. Charles fought the whole way, trying to wiggle free but Erik was much stronger than he remembered.

Charles finally managed to twist a hand free while Erik was busy ripping his shirt open. He sent his nails flying across the German's face, slicing his cheek open. Erik pulled back with a hiss and brought his hand to his face. "Fuck Charles," he spat out, looking heatedly at the man below him.

For a brief second, an apologetic look flashed through Charles' eyes, but it quickly dissolved and he took the opportunity to push Erik up and off of him. He tried to scramble off the bed but Erik just reached out and grabbed Charles by the back of his ripped shirt and slammed him back down on the bed. He looked angrily down at him. "Bad idea Charles," he said lowly, hand still rubbing his wounded cheek. When he did pull his hand away to look at it, his fingertips were covered in blood. He looked back at Charles, who was on his stomach and looking back at him with fear in his eyes.

Quickly, Erik grabbed the smaller man's shoulder and flipped him over to where he was on his back again. He placed his blood free hand on Charles' chest to hold him down. "Look at what you did Charles," he said as he showed the other man his hand. Charles' eyes remained cold and uncaring so Erik wiped his blood on Charles' lips and down his chin and neck. "Fucking little _prat_," he seethed out as Charles tried to turn his head away from Erik's fingers.

Erik pinned Charles' arms underneath his knees as he worked on removing his tie again. "Let's just make this easier on the both of us," he said harshly as he removed the tie from around his neck, looking down at Charles, daring him to try and escape again. Charles wiggled under Erik's body and tried to free himself but it was all in vain.

Once Erik had his tie off, he climbed off Charles' body and grabbed for the younger man's arms before he could try and fight him again. He slammed both arms up above the brunet's head. Charles groaned out and tried to get out of Erik's grip. Erik tied both of Charles' wrists together and secured it with a tight knot. Charles instantly felt his hands start to go numb.

"There," Erik said as he leaned back up. He ran a shaky hand through his hair, pushing it back into place, and panted as he looked down at the bound man below him. "That oughta make things easier," he breathed out as he tried to catch his breath from fighting the younger man. Charles twisted underneath him and tried to push his hips up to get Erik off him. Erik placed a strong hand to Charles' chest and pushed down again, stopping the man's desperate attempts at freedom. He smirked as he sank back down to Charles' lips. "You know," he said breathlessly, "doing that only turns me on more." He then ground his hips down and against Charles as he sealed their lips together. Charles whipped his head to the side as Erik tried to kiss him. Erik leaned back up and glared down at the man who just avoided his advances.

"Wrong move Charles," He said bitterly. He grabbed Charles' chin and jaw roughly and brought it back to face him. He then smashed their lips back together and kissed the younger man forcefully. Charles yelled against Erik's mouth assault and tried to turn his head out of the kiss again but Erik only tensed his grip even more, causing painful pressure against Charles' jaw.

Charles lay defeated on the bed, allowing Erik to kiss him. When Erik pulled away, he ran a slow hand down Charles' chest, pushing what was left of the smaller man's ripped shirt aside to expose his chest. He trailed his hand down to Charles' boxers, slipping it inside and wrapping around the other man's erection.

"_Oh Charles_," Erik said on a breath, "You seem to be enjoying this after all—don't you? You little slut."

"Fuck you Erik," Charles grinded out and tried to move away from Erik's grasp. But Erik started stroking Charles' cock roughly, causing a moan to leak from Charles' lips. "Yes, you do like this," Erik purred out and sped up his hand movements, his other hand on Charles' chest still holding him down.

"I've had better," Charles spit out coldly.

Erik froze. His eyes narrowed as he looked back at Charles. He took in a couple of deep breaths before addressing the younger man. "Is that so?" He hissed out and then wrapped his hand around Charles' neck. He brought Charles up to him and said: "We'll just have to do something about that, now won't we?" and then shoved the smaller man back down onto the mattress.

Charles watched the other man in fear as he started to undo his own pants and slid them off his body. Charles pushed himself up and tried to scoot away but Erik's hand darted out and grabbed onto his thigh before he could get too far. "Where ya going Charles?" Erik asked wickedly, he dragged Charles back to him as his fingers dug painfully into Charles' soft skin. Charles was still on his back so Erik crawled on top of him and pinned him down with his body weight. One of Erik's hands went up to hold strongly onto Charles' bound wrists while the other grabbed onto Charles' hip as Erik kissed the younger man's neck hungrily.

Moaning shamefully, Charles turned his head to the side as tears streamed down his face. Erik brought his head up and his brows furrowed as a quick look of concern flashed through his eyes but Charles just gave a quick head shake and Erik went back to kissing and biting his neck. He squeezed Charles' hip and ground his own erection against Charles'. Charles moaned again and Erik leaned up until he was straddling the smaller man on bent knees.

"Turn on your stomach Charles," Erik demanded with a smack to the side of Charles' hip. But Charles didn't move. His chest rose and fell as he took in breath after breath. He glared at Erik before saying: "Get fucked."

Smirking, Erik looked down at Charles with the shake of a head. "Oh, don't worry—I plan on it," he said harshly before moving off of him and grabbing Charles by the upper arm and flipping him onto his stomach in one quick motion.

Charles landed on his front with a grunt, his cheek pressed to the bed firmly as a harsh breath left him. Erik sent a palm to the younger man's ass with a sharp slap and Charles cried out again. Tangling his hand in the brunet's hair, Erik pulled him up and whispered in his ear: "Now be a good boy and put your ass up for me, or I'll do it forcefully." He released his hold on the smaller man and let his body land back against the bed with a small bounce. Charles buried his face into the sheets as more tears rolled down his face, his hands still bond above his head and arms outstretched. He kneed his way up until his ass was in the air like Erik commanded.

"That's a good boy," Erik cooed as he ran a hand down the younger man's rump. "Let's go ahead and get rid of these," he said before whipping Charles' boxers down to his bent knees and leaving them there. "That's good enough," he decided and then placed both hands on Charles' asscheeks, spreading them.

Charles rasped out a breath when he felt Erik's tongue on his hole. He buried his face even more and sobbed into the sheets as Erik tongue fucked him relentlessly.

Pulling back, Erik replaced his tongue with a finger and twisted it in and out of Charles smoothly. "You like that, don't you Charles?" he said softly, soaking up all of the lovely moans Charles was making. He added another finger and sped up, "Yeah—I know you like this you little slut—just listen to you moan," he plunged his fingers into the other man harshly, prodding and poking as he stretched him. Charles wailed out against the bed, turning his head to rest on his cheek as he moaned out starkly. "Fuck you," he succeeded in getting out between harsh breaths.

Erik sent another sharp smack to the side of Charles' hip as he continued to finger fuck him. "Now, now Charles, no need to be vulgar," he moved his fingers in and out of him some more, "if you're lucky, I'll let you come too," he said before leaning down and placing a wet kiss on Charles' back.

Another shameful moan left Charles' mouth and he twisted his head back to look at the man behind him. Erik popped his fingers out and gave Charles one more heavy lick, causing the brunet to close his eyes as his breath hitched in his throat.

"I think you're wet enough," Erik murmured as he positioned himself behind Charles. He pulled his own cock out from the slit in his boxers and began stroking himself as his other hand settled on Charles' hip. He stroked himself a good couple of times before moving the hand on Charles' hip to the top of his ass and pushing down on the smaller man slightly. "Come down a little bit for me Charles," he cooed out sickly.

Still panting and sweaty from struggling, and Erik's finger fucking session, Charles kneed his legs apart more for Erik and placed his forehead to the mattress. His arms above his head had lost all feeling and were tingly from blood loss.

Erik slowed his hand strokes and guided his cock to poke against Charles' wet hole. Charles let out a gasp and Erik pulled back smirking. His hand went back to Charles' hip and he grabbed the skin roughly, pulling the smaller man back and onto his cock instead of pushing in himself. Charles moaned loudly and arched his back. Erik slipped his cock in more, drawing more of the younger man's body back with him. He gave one small thrust and Charles cried out, lifting his head off the bed as he did. The hand that was on Erik's cock darted out and slammed Charles' head back down onto the bed as he started to fuck into him carelessly. He leaned over the smaller man's body, rolling up on his knees and he drove his cock deeper into Charles as he fucked him. Erik kept one hand firm on the back of Charles' head and the other on his hip. He plunged into Charles deeper and faster and Charles managed to turn his face to the side so he could breathe better, even though Erik's fingers were tangled harshly in his longish hair.

Breathing gone shallow, Erik grinded his teeth as he drove his cock in and out of Charles wildly. He snapped his hips over and over again as he held onto Charles' hip forcefully and fucked the younger man within an inch of his life. "Fuck Charles, you tight little slut," he rasped out, "you like my cock inside you, don't you?"

Charles panted loudly and sweat rolled down his body as he took Erik's pounding. He darted his eyes back to look at Erik as his face remained smashing into to bed. "Screw you," he ground out. Erik just grinned and fucked Charles' harder. He grabbed onto the smaller man's asscheek and pulled it to the side to better slide into him. Charles reburied his face into the sweat and shame soaked sheets as he cried out.

Removing his hand from Charles' hair, Erik placed it on the other side of Charles' hip as he straightened up and thrust his cock into him smoothly now. At one point, he pulled Charles off the bed by his hips as he fucked into him at an angle, causing Charles to moan out helplessly and try and wriggly away, but Erik was quick to lower Charles back down and continue his smooth thrusting in and out.

"Yes Charles," Erik huffed out, "I'm gonna come so hard in your ass you're gonna feel it," he said as he dug his fingers into Charles' bruising skin. Erik came with a deep groan, filling Charles completely. His hips rolled to a stop as he rounded his completion. "Fuck Charles," he breathed out once he was done. He eyed the flushed and sweaty man under him. "Did you come?" He asked between pants.

Charles simply nodded, shame in his eyes and tear-stained cheeks. Erik pulled out abruptly and brought Charles up to his chest. He wrapped one arm around the brunet's chest as they breathed loudly together, holding him to his body. Erik looked over Charles' shoulder and down at the bed. "Well lookie there," Erik said between breaths, "you did fucking come—and all over my sheets too." He pushed Charles back down unforgivingly. "You little slut, I knew you'd like it."

…

Charles was in the bathroom the next morning looking at the bite mark on his neck. He tipped his head to the side and dabbed it with a wet washcloth, trying to get the dried blood off.

Silently, Erik appeared at the door and watched Charles for a moment before he murmured: "Here, let me." He moved closer to Charles and took the washcloth from his hand and started gently rubbing at the mark. Charles looked at Erik wordlessly, eyes dark blue and curious. Erik shifted his eyes from Charles' neck to his face.

"Don't ask me to do that again—once was enough," he told the younger man.

Charles simply smiled up at Erik. "Okay," he replied softly.

…

"Did you mean what you said?" Erik asked in the dark. He pulled Charles' body closer. "That you've had better?"

Charles turned so that he was facing Erik; he was only visible by the light of the moon. "No, of course not," he said on a whisper. "It was just for the moment. Only you Erik—only you can make me feel that good." He pressed his lips to the older man's softly.

…

"How's your cheek?" Charles asked as he leaned over Erik and placed a kiss to it. Erik tipped his head back to look at Charles from his spot at the kitchen table. He set the newspaper down that he was reading and smiled softly at the younger man. "It's fine. Stings a bit, but I'll live."

Charles winced as he held onto his tea cup. "Sorry bout that," he said sheepishly. "I have no idea what came over me," he said with a smirk as he brought his teacup up to his lips for a sip.

"Course you don't," Erik said with his own smirk as he picked his newspaper back up and resumed reading.

Chapter Seven.

Some days, Erik thinks what they have—whatever the fuck it is, might work.

Today was not one of those days.

"You cannot keep me here like a prisoner!" Charles had shouted, one hand on the front door handle, the other pointing resentfully at Erik.

"You're not a prisoner Charles, don't even say that. But you know you can't go out—you saw the news. You're all over it! You're wanted," Erik retorted back, desperately trying to get between Charles and the door.

"I don't care! You cannot keep me here forever! I will not be a sla-"

"_Don't_," Erik shouted. "...don't even finish that sentence," he added deathly calm.

…

Charles found Erik in his office, finally going over the financial reports of what was left of his company.

"I'm going out today if you like it or not."

Erik looked up from the paper in his hand.

The fight had lasted two days, and ended with Charles threatening to leave for good and Erik down on his knees, wrapped around Charles' legs, begging him not to go.

The next day, Erik took Charles to see the city. At night.

…

There are certain days that Erik truly believes that Charles might actually, just maybe, love him back.

Today was almost one of those days.

Charles lay tangled between Erik's arms and legs, the bed sheets draped low on his body. He looked up at the older man, as his head rested on Erik's chest. "Erik?"

Shifting his gaze down to the man below him, Erik met eyes with the brunet.

"..I…"

The flicker of hope in the older man's eyes was enough to nearly shatter Charles' heart.

"Never mind…sorry…"

Almost.

…

Charles has good days and bad days—some days he's thankful to have someone like Erik—someone who put everything else in life on hold to made sure Charles was safe. To make sacrifices that Charles wasn't sure if he'd ever make in return. To care for Charles, to hold him, to tend to his every need.

To love him.

Other days, Charles hates and regret's Erik—wished he'd never had been found by the man—wished he wouldn't have came into the club that day and picked Charles out like he was a fucking dog in the pound. He never wanted to be anyone's slave—never wanted any of this.

And when Erik's nice to him, when he brings Charles things back from the city, a book, another chess set, a puzzle—it makes Charles both despise, and yet, feel fondly towards the man. He hates it.

Sometimes Erik tries to remind Charles, which only makes him angrier, that if not for him, Charles would still be a slave—and probably to someone who would've treated him like shit.

Erik thinks he's helping—but he's not.

He's making it worse.

…

Erik doesn't like to think about if Charles were still a slave. A slave to someone who would treat him poorly—like he'd been treated in the past. He thinks about what if he wouldn't have came into the club that day—what if someone else would have gotten to Charles before him. What if Erik would have taken home the blond kid after all?

What would his life be without Charles?

He wonders if it would be worth living.

…

Sometimes Erik had nightmares. Erik has nightmares about waking up to find Charles gone. Then he finds out that Charles had been forced back into slavery, and someone has taken him already. And they treat him like shit and rape him and beat him and make him cry, and he's crying for Erik and Erik can't help him because he's so far away but he can hear Charles crying and begging and calling Erik's name, and Erik was suppose to have protected him and…

"Erik!" Charles cried, "It's just a dream Erik! Wake up!" He held tighten onto the thrashing man, desperately trying to hold him still so his fists don't accidently come in contact with Charles' body. Again. "Erik wake up!"

Erik's eyes fly open, "_Charles_!" He's sweaty and shaky and his breathing is heavy and strained. He looks to Charles, who is still holding him like it's all he can do to not lose the man.

"I'm sorry," he chokes out. He buries his face into the brunet's chest. "I'm sorry..."

"It's okay," Charles says gently, "it was just a dream."

They fall back into silence. Erik lies in Charles' arms, catching his breath.

"Shouldn't _I_ be the one having the nightmares?"

…

Sometimes Erik does things for Charles that makes Charles' chest swell. He never asks for anything, and he never has to. Erik just knows.

And sometimes Erik does things that angers Charles—he does things that he thinks Charles will like, things that he thinks will make him feel less like a prisoner being held captive and more like a human that is loved. Sometimes Charles gets so mad that he considers leaving—stealing away in the middle of the night to never return.

Tonight is not one of those nights.

"What are you doing?" Charles asks as he makes his way into the kitchen. He glances at Erik with a sense of curiosity.

Erik can sense this. He turns with a smile. "Making Salmon Croquettes."

Charles' face softens. "That's my favorite," he says softly, a hint of longing in his voice.

"I know," Erik replies simply with a grin. He turns back to his work.

"With Remoulade sauce?"

"Of course Charles."

"I…" a small smile comes over Charles' face, "Thank you."

Erik doesn't want Charles to thank him.

…

Sometimes Erik fucks Charles, and sometimes he makes love to Charles.

Tonight they make love.

"_Erik_," Charles gasps. He turns his face to the side and buries it in the pillow, but Erik reaches out with his hand and turns Charles' head back so that he can look at him.

"I want to see your face Charles."

…

"Can this work Erik?" Charles asked afterwards, limbs tangled together, sweat still clinging to their spent bodies. Erik's chest is still rising and falling with every breath he takes. He glances over at his young lover. "Of course it can work Charles. I won't let it not."

Charles says nothing.

He wants to believe Erik.

…

Sometimes, shit hits the fan.

"Are you seeing someone else?"

"What?" The look Erik gave Charles was filled with so much hurt and betrayal and _anger,_ that it almost frightened the brunet.

Almost.

"Are you. _Fucking_. Someone else?"

Erik rose from his desk slowly, eyes seething with rage. The piece of paper beneath his hand crumpled beyond recognition.

"Two or three times a week you go out at night, around the same time, and you don't come back until nearly midnight or later. And on those nights you don't touch me—you don't fuck me—you don't even look at me. You just get into bed and go to sleep." Charles told him, giving the other man a look that made him want to destroy the nearest window with a chair.

Erik snapped. And rightfully so.

"How _dare_ you," Erik shouted, "How dare you come in here and accuse me of such _poison_ when I've given up EVERYTHING to be with you! I wouldn't have uprooted my entire life and flew halfway around the world to be with you if I was just going to go out and start _fucking_ other people!" The lamp on Erik's desk flew across the room and shattered against the wall.

Charles just blinked. "Where do you go then?" He asked, venom still in his voice. Erik's rage doesn't scare him as much as it use to. He's grown use to it.

"Get the _fuck_ out Charles," Erik growled as he pointed at the door, "I don't want to see you for the rest of the evening!"

That night, Charles slept in one of the guestrooms. And Erik didn't care which one.

…

"I'm sorry," Charles said timidly. He looked down at his still full cup of tea.

Erik said nothing. He didn't even lower the newspaper he wasn't reading.

…

Charles stared at the colorless wall of the guestroom for the second night in a row. He already had the dots on the ceiling memorized.

A warm body slid up behind him and an arm wrapped around his waist. The breath on the back of his neck made his eyes slide shut and his own breathing wavered.

"The docks—I go to the docks," came Erik's low voice. Charles kept his eyes closed and just listened. "Sometimes I drink; sometimes I just sit there and listen to the wave's crash against the shore." He took in a deep breath. "Sometimes I think about jumping in." Charles' eyes opened but he didn't move.

"Sometimes I just need to get away, just not look at you and that sad face you give me—the one that reminds me of what I use to be. It breaks my heart Charles—I can't stand it. I would never betray you—but sometimes I just can't be around you. Not because I don't want to, but because it hurts too much." Erik tightened his grip around the smaller man. "I love you so much and I don't even understand what kind of love it is."

Charles took in a shaky breath.

"And I know you don't understand it either—I can see it in the way you look at me. You wonder how what I have for you can be love. You wonder how someone like me can love someone like you. It haunts me Charles—those looks you give me. You think I love you like a slave, that I only love you because you were once my slave. I see it in your eyes, every time we kiss—you think the poison sets in."

Charles takes in another rickety breath. "It already has."

And Erik's heart breaks.

…

"You love me enough that you set me free once, would you do it again?"

Charles doesn't see Erik for the rest of the day, or night.

…

2am.

"I can't live without you," came Erik's deep voice. He pressed a kiss to the back of Charles' shoulder as the younger man lay in the guest bed.

"You did it before."

"I had hope on my side."

"And if I wouldn't have come back?"

"I would have kept hoping."

…

"What. _The fuck_. Is that," Erik asked coldly as he looked at the item in Charles' hand, "doing here?"

Charles looked down at the collar in his hand. His collar. "I don't know," he said faintly and then looked up at Erik, "I just grabbed it before we left. I thought you might want-"

"Get rid of it—_burn it_—get it the fuck out of my sight," Erik spat at him like it was toxic. He left the room.

…

"What are you thinking about?" Charles asked with a smirk as he looked at Erik from across the chessboard.

"Don't you wish you could read my mind?" Erik replied with his own smirk. He took Charles' bishop.

"No," Charles said with a knowing grin, "It was make playing chess with you terribly predictable."

Erik laughed softly. He looked back up at Charles. "Well then- I'm _thinking about_ sweeping this chessboard aside and kissing you," he said huskily, dark desire in his eyes.

"Is that _because_ you're losing?"

"Shut up Charles," Erik said with a smile as he reached over and brought Charles closer by the neck of his shirt. Their lips met over the chess pieces.

"I want to finish this game later," Charles said with a breath once he finally pulled away from the kiss. Erik resisted the urge to roll his eyes as he pulled back. "Fine," he said before standing and coming over to Charles' chair. He held his hand out for the younger man. "To the couch then."

Charles smiled and took his hand.

And when Charles wasn't looking, he took one of Charles' rooks off the board. He knew Charles would notice later.

…

Erik sat straight up, back against the couch as Charles straddled him. They kissed heavily, once, twice, three times before Erik cupped the sides of Charles' face and held him there against his lips. Charles' hands roamed strongly down Erik's chest as he allowed the taller man to kiss him deeply.

He pulled away with a gasp of air.

"What's wrong Charles?" Erik looked up at the man atop him.

Looking off in the distance, Charles breathed. "Nothing," he said quietly and then looked down at Erik. "Nothing at all." He sealed their lips back together.

Erik's hands started unworking the buttons of Charles' shirt until he met flesh. He pushed the article of clothing off the younger man's shoulders until he was bare. Charles pulled away and looked profoundly down at the man he was sitting on. Both their chests were heaving slightly with every breath they took.

"If you don't want to do this Charles just let me know," Erik said huskily. He looked up at Charles with care. Eye's searching, always searching.

"No, I want this," Charles said lowly and then reclaimed his lips. The back of Erik's head met the top of the couch as Charles kissed him fiercely, cupping Erik's face now. He pressed into the kiss, working Erik's lips open with his own and slipping his tongue in.

Erik cherished the taste of Charles; he wanted to know every molecule in Charles' body. Their tongues danced together hotly, slick and wet as they slid against each other. They only broke when the need for air was prominent. Charles took in a couple of deep breaths as Erik trailed kisses down his neck and throat, his eye's sliding shut as Erik did so. When Erik reached the brunet's chest he bumped Charles' body up with his legs so he could get a better reach. Charles' hands landed on the top of the couch, on either side of Erik, and he lowered his face so that it was pressed to the top of Erik's head.

Still kissing Charles' bare chest, Erik ran his hands down until they found their spot on either side of Charles' hips. He gripped the smaller man firmly, bringing his body back down so that he could kiss him on the lips again properly. Charles wrapped his arms around Erik's head as they kissed, making it more animalistic and wild, kissing him harshly. Erik rolled his hips up and rutted again Charles, showing him just how much he appreciated Charles' enthusiasm.

"Erik," Charles rasped out after he pulled away. He cupped Erik's cheeks and looked down longingly at him. "Could we-"

"No." Erik cut him off. Stern eyes looked up into blue. "I told you not to ask that of me again. Once was enough Charles," he said gravely. Erik didn't care how fucked up Charles' past had made him—he would NOT do that again—no matter how bad Charles thought it's what he wanted.

Or needed.

"Sorry," Charles replied timidly. He ducked his head and looked down, but Erik was quick to reach his hand up and tip Charles' chin back up so that they met eyes again. "You do not have to be sorry for you past—but _this_ is your future now. And they'll be none of that." Erik slid their lips together again.

Charles had serious issues he needed to cope with, Erik feared.

…

"How do you want me?" Charles said breathily. He was still seated atop Erik, only minus clothes. Erik was in the same state of undress—he held onto Charles' hips and looked up at him with nothing but passion and desire. "Just like this," he told the brunet.

Charles smirked down at Erik, grinding his ass down on his erection. Erik let out a small noise and went to reach for the drawer on the table by the couch.

Charles stopped him with a hand and Erik looked up with confusion.

"I've already prepared myself," he whispered against Erik's ear. Erik's hand fell to the couch and he looked hopelessly at the man before him.

"When?" Was all he could breathe out. But Charles just kissed him, and then brought the other man's hand back to its spot on his hip. Erik's grip tightened and he thrust his hips up again, getting the much desired friction he needed. Charles' skin felt so good, so slick, and he could feel the lube between his asscheeks now as he rubbed against them.

A small whimper escaped Charles' mouth and he looked down sexually at Erik—hungrily— and filled with yearning. His hands darted down and covered Erik's, still grasping his hips, and forced them to slide back onto Charles' asscheeks, until the tips of Erik's fingers glided into his slicked crack.

Taking in his own sharp breath, Erik let his fingers roam down until they reached Charles' entrance. And so bad did he just want to slide them it, all of them, at the same time and pull Charles open—stretch him open until his cock slid right in with ease, without any effort or pushing.

But he didn't.

He took his time—he probed a finger in gently, twisting it and moving it back and forth slightly until Charles cursed at him and told him to add another, and that he was doing it too slowly. He ground down onto Erik's fingers, forcing them in his body more. He could have just rode Erik's fingers alone if the man let him.

"Charles," Erik cooed with a smile, "I appreciate your enthusiasm, but at least wait until I get my cock in you before you get off."

Grinding down against Erik's fingers, Charles panted at him: "Then I suggest you stick it in me before it's too late," hotly. Erik removed his fingers, not needing to be told twice, and then lifted Charles up by the hips.

When the brunet was lowered back down he found himself being skewered by Erik's cock. They moaned out together as Erik pulled Charles all the way down onto his cock, and it felt wonderful and perfect, like Charles' hole was meant to fit Erik's cock precisely.

Then the thrusting began. Erik gripped the younger man's hips tightly as he fucked up into him wildly. Charles bounced off Erik's lap as he rode the older man's cock. The only sounds to be heard were skin slapping against skin and heavy breathing as Erik fucked Charles with abandon.

Until Charles came. He moaned out loudly, gripping the back of the couch as his release rocked through his body. He shot his seed all over Erik's stomach and chest but the other man didn't care—he loved it. The feel of Charles' warmth and stickiness hitting him only aroused him more. He sped up his thrusts, using Charles' body to fuck down onto his cock.

When Erik came he stilled his body, but continued to move Charles' hips up and down, forcing the smaller man to ride his cock as he filled him with his seed.

Charles flopped forward on Erik as soon as the taller man's hands fell to the side, releasing their strong hold on the brunet's hips. And they lay there like that, sweaty and sticky and breathing each other's air—panting really. Charles was the first to pull back; he placed his hands on the top of the couch and pushed up. He looked wrecked down at Erik, his eyes half lidded and his mouth gaped open slightly as he breathed.

"Erik," he said on a breath.

"Yes?" Erik's eyes turned soft, hopeful.

"Erik," Charles breathed again.

They kissed.

Chapter 8.

Erik tries. It feels like he tries everyday to get Charles to love him.

Some days are better than others.

"It doesn't have to be like this," Erik spoke softly as he came up behind the shorter man. He kissed his neck and looked out the window that Charles was standing in front of. "If you just say it, I think you'll find that you mean it. This would be so much better—what we have would be so much stronger."

Charles turned and gave Erik a smile that made him sick. He hated that smile. Fake. Forged. Simulated. "Say what dear?"

This was not one of the better days.

…

"Are you going out?" Charles questioned. Erik's hand froze on the door handle, his back to the shorter man. "To the docks?"

When Erik did turn, he looked forlornly at his young lover. "I thought you were asleep."

"I was." Charles said simply. He cocked his head at the taller man. "Can I come with you?"

"Charles-" Erik started beseechingly.

"Please Erik," Charles said so pathetically that it nearly broke Erik's heart in two. He wondered how much more breaking his heart could take.

…

"Do you ever look up at the stars while you're out here?" Charles asked, his head up towards the Heavens.

"No." Erik answered normally. "I come here for the waves—something about the rhythm takes me away," he sighed, "they're easy to get lost in," he added with murmur.

A hand was placed over Erik's. "I hope you're not talking about jumping again."

…

Charles blinked up at Erik, his head resting on the taller man's chest. Erik looked so peaceful when he slept. So at ease.

Sometimes, Charles wonders what it would be like to get himself fully to the man.

…

"Look at me Charles," Erik begged, "_Look at me_," he held onto the smaller man's shoulders, "I don't even know what I did wrong!"

Tears streamed down Charles' cheeks as he kept his head turned away from the man before him, his eyes tightly shut. He will not look at him; he will _not _feel this way about him.

"What have I done?" Erik's own voice wavered. He gripped Charles tighter. "What have I done wrong Charles?" He begged. No, Charles can't leave—he won't let him—not again.

Charles gasped out a sob. He slowly turned his face to meet to man before him. "You _know_ what you've done," he ground out, tears sliding down his face as his body shook.

"_I don't know_," Erik yelled, panic and fear in his voice. He was losing him.

Again.

"I have to go Erik, you have to let me go," Charles begged, trying to get out of Erik's grasp and get to the door.

"No Charles!" Erik pleaded; he wrapped his arms around the smaller man and held onto him so firmly he was afraid he'd crush the life out of him. "I won't let you go—I've already lost you once," he squeezed him tighter. "I won't lose you again!"

"No Erik!" Charles tried to squirm his way free, but Erik only constricted his hold more, like a snake with its prey. "You have to let me go Erik! You have to let me leave! I can't be here anymore!" He sobbed against the stronger man. "_Please_…"

Erik sank down to the ground with Charles in his arms, shushing him calmly, whispering soothing words into his ear as they hit the floor. Charles cried into his shirt.

"This wasn't supposed to happen," the brunet sobbed softly.

…

Erik watched Charles. He watched as he sat in the bay window, legs tucked under him as he wistfully looked out at the rolling landscape.

His heart fucking broke.

How long could he keep this up?

…

Erik got drunk at the docks that night. He chucked his empty bottle of scotch in the water.

And then he cried.

…

"Erik?" Charles questioned sleepily. He rolled over and watched as the other man entered the dark room. "What time is it?"

"Don't know," slurred Erik's voice. He made his way heavily over to the bed. "Get over here Charles," he demanded as he sat down across from the brunet. He reached from him harshly, "You want me to _rape_ you again—you like that shit? Then I'll fucking do it-I'll fucking rape you."

Charles looked over at the man next to him on the bed. "Christ Erik, you drunk?" He questioned in horror.

"You're fucking right I'm drunk," Erik snapped unkindly. He grabbed Charles' arms and brought him closer. "Now come here so I can rape you like I know you like it. You get off on that don't you? For what ever sick fucking reason, I don't know. Does it make you feel better about yourself when I treat you like shit? When I _rape_ you? You sick fuck. You're nothing but a goddamn _martyr_. You want to be treated poorly, you want to be raped," he spat out, "It makes you happy to make me feel like shit, doesn't it? You want me to feel like shit for keeping you as a fucking slave-you want me to feel like this every day of my goddamn life until I die!"

Charles turned his face away from all the poison that was coming from Erik, but he knew it was true. "I don't know how else to live," he said softly.

"Well you won't live like that with me," Erik told him harshly and then pushed him away. Disgusted.

"You're free to go again Charles—get out of my sight."

…

When Erik awoke the next day, he found a glass of water and two aspirin on the bedside table. His head pounded and the room was spinning. He welcomed the water and pills, and then fell back asleep.

…

The next time Erik woke, he was met with a plate of crackers and some sliced cheese.

He ate the crackers for his stomach; the cheese could just sit there and sweat.

…

Sometime around 2pm, Erik rolled onto his back. He blinked up at the ceiling. The room was no longer going in circles but his head felt like it was still in a fog.

When he looked over at the bedside table again, the plate of cheese was gone and sat in its place was a sandwich.

…

Erik carried the empty plate downstairs. He looked around the living room before pushing the doors to the kitchen open.

Turning upon hearing Erik enter, Charles looked softly at the man. "Oh," he said, slightly startled, "I was just going to come check on you. You feel better, yes?" He asked cautiously, voice level.

Placing the plate on the table, Erik nodded. He glanced around Charles to see what he was doing.

"Oh," Charles said again when he noticed that Erik was trying to see what he was working on. "Just trying to figure out the coffeemaker—I've never made coffee a day in my life, but I figured you'd need some. It's what people drink for hangovers, yes?"

"Here," Erik said as he made his way closer to the brunet, "I'll show you how it's done," he said softly. Charles watched as Erik crossed over the kitchen and stood next to him, his blue eyes filled with wonder and something close to fondness.

It scared him.

But suddenly, despite his fear, Charles leaned up and pressed a kiss to the corner of Erik's mouth, catching the older man off guard.

It was a quick kiss, barely a second. Charles sunk back down and looked up at Erik. And Erik just blinked down at him—coffee forgotten.

But that kiss never would be.

…

Neither of them spoke of that night again, or of Charles being told he could leave.

…

"Say it to me Charles," Erik said pleadingly, holding the smaller man closely as they kissed in the shower, "Please—I need to hear it," he added softly. "I know you do—just say it."

A shuddering breath left Charles as he looked up into the taller man's eyes. He just pressed his lips against Erik's firmly.

…

"Will you stay with me Erik? Stay with me no matter what happens? No matter what the outcome of whatever happens to me?" Charles asked into the darkness.

"Yes," Erik told him without hesitation, arms wrapping around the smaller man's body. "Without a doubt," he added just as strongly.

Charles closed his eyes and a breath left his body.

…

Some days, Charles takes two steps back—or as Erik thinks of it; he relapses.

"Stop! Stop Charles!" Erik begged as he tried to hold onto the smaller man's shoulders, blocking him from leaving the room, "Just stop _damn it_-we're not doing this again!"

"No! Get off me Erik—I have to get out of here!" He pleads, trying with all his power to get around the man blocking his way. He just wants to get to the door—and leave.

"No Charles! Don't do this!" Erik wrapped his arms around the shorter man, "I can't live without you! You can't leave me!" He was on the verge of sobbing, but he wouldn't let it take him over the edge.

Not yet at least.

"_Please_ Erik—just let me leave. I can't do this anymore," Charles cried. Big shameful tears rolled down his face.

"You don't mean this Charles—_look at me_—this _isn't_ you," Erik pushed Charles back, keeping his hold tight on the smaller man's shoulders, "Stop- just _stop,_" Erik's chest was heaving with the effort to contain the man, "…just _stop,_" he took in a shuddering breath, "I'll do anything for you Charles—just don't leave…please never leave me again…I…I can't live without you. I'd do anything for you—I'd _die_ for you!" He looked dead into the brunet's eyes. "I love you—you have to know that. I won't let you go," he had his chance, "I won't lose you," he tightened his grip, "I'm not losing you again…I'll tie you down before I let that happ-"

Charles froze—fear in his eyes. Betrayal.

"Oh god…" Erik gasped. He felt his hands begin to tremble on Charles' shoulders. "God Charles, no…_no_! I didn't mean it," he shook his head fervently at the smaller man, "I'm so sorry," his voice hitched, "I'm _so_ sorry."

But Charles just shushed him, bringing the taller man into his arms and holding him, "It's okay," he said gently, "you didn't mean it—I know."

Erik finally broke. "Please don't leave me," he cried into Charles' neck, "please don't leave—this can work—we can make this work."

Charles sighed.

He didn't leave.

…

Two days later.

"How?"

Erik looked up from his book, eyebrows knitted together in confusion.

"How can this work?" Charles asked in clarification, but not unkindly—more of, peeked curiosity than anything.

Thinking about this for a moment, Erik shook his head sadly at the brunet.

"I don't know."

…

Charles rolled over in the dark, reaching out for the man next to him. He wrapped an arm around Erik's waist and buried his face into the German's back.

"Can you not sleep Charles?" Came Erik's husky voice. Charles nodded his face against his back so Erik rolled over. He faced the younger man, searching for him in the dark. "What would you like Charles—what did you want?"

Taking in a small breath, Charles answered him. "Your hand is fine."

"I asked what did you _want_."

Another shuddering breath. "Your mouth," Charles said on the exhale.

"Very well," Erik muttered as he pushed the smaller man onto his back and began kissing down his bare chest. He whipped the covers off Charles completely and placed a harsh kiss to his stomach. Charles let out a gasp and his hand instantly flew down to tangle in Erik's fading blond hair. Erik reached down and grabbed Charles' already hard cock from under his sleep pants and gave it a good few strokes—earning even more gasps and small noises than before.

"How do you want it?" Erik asked delicately, still stroking the brunet's cock as pre-come formed on the tip. Erik wanted to taste it.

So he did.

"Slowly," Charles choked out the same time Erik's tongue flickered over the head of his cock. His breathing was already going shallow.

"Anything for you Charles," Erik got out before he swallowed Charles down. He worked Charles' cock unhurried and with care, making sure to run his lips ever so slowly over the younger man's hard shaft. Charles groaned out a low moan, digging his fingers deeper into the blond's hair.

Inch by inch, Erik took Charles into his mouth again, dragging his tongue along the way as well. It was almost too slow—too tedious.

"A little faster," Charles rasped out, looking down to try and make out Erik in the darkness. But all he saw was a dark head bobbing, faster now—but not too fast. Just the right speed. Charles leaned his head back onto the pillow and moaned, his hand never breaking contact with the man below him.

"I'm so close Erik," he strained out, breathing gone ragged. Erik sped up his movements, moaning himself around Charles' cock and massaging his balls until he felt his mouth fill up with warmth.

And he would never get tired of Charles' taste.

Charles shuddered as Erik pulled away slowly, taking time to clean the brunet's cock completely.

When Erik lay back down next to Charles, he pressed himself close, burying his face in the brunet's neck and placed a heavy kiss there.

"Let me help you with that," Charles said breathlessly, still trying to right his own breathing, when he felt Erik's own erection pressed firmly against his leg. He started to reach down between the older man's legs but was stopped with a hand to his.

"It's okay Charles," Erik murmured. He brought his face out of the young man's neck, searching for his eyes in the dark. "You don't have to. I'll just go take a shower."

"But-" Charles started in protest. He was silenced by Erik's lips to his own.

"I said its fine," Erik told him again once he pulled away. He rolled out of bed before Charles could further debate on the subject and made his way to the bathroom, closing and locking the door behind him.

Erik jerked-off in the shower, hot water rushing down his body as he thought of Charles' lips, and his skin—his touch, his eyes. Everything that made Charles Charles. He worked his hand quicker.

Tonight, Charles was not going to service him.

…

Erik found himself with an arm full of Charles the next morning—the brunet's face smashed into his chest and snoring softly.

He smiled.

It was, a good day.

…

"Chess?" Erik question and Charles smiled. "Only if you're willing to lose again," replied the brunet, and now it was Erik's turn to smile.

"For you, I'd be willing to lose everything," Erik said faintly.

Charles frowned. "Erik…"

"Alright. Let's play," Erik said suddenly, ignoring Charles' chide. He sat across from the brunet and begun setting the board up. "I assume you still want to be white?" He flashed his eyes up at Charles with a knowing smirk.

Charles relaxed. "But of course," he replied easily, "How else do you think I win every time—it's my lucky color."

Erik snorted. "You can't have lucky colors—numbers, a penny, a rabbit's foot, sure—but I've never heard of a lucky color."

"You don't have to believe it," the younger man said with his own knowing smirk.

Charles won that game and Erik accused him of being a mind reader.

He refused to believe in lucky colors.

…

Erik pushed into Charles, trapping the smaller man under him. "This can work Charles," he rasped out gently. Another thrust, "I promise you this will work," he buried his face into the crook of Charles' neck. He rolled his hips again, "just never leave me," another careful thrust, "I love you," he whispered.

Charles came.

Erik followed.

…

They laid tangled in bed together, sweat and come covered as they caught their breaths. Erik turned to face the brunet, eyes full of hope.

There was one thing that Erik had yet to think of—and that was just to ask Charles.

"Do you love me Charles?"

The brunet turned his face to meet Erik's.

And he smiled.

"What do you think Erik?"

THE END.


End file.
